Bits and Pieces
by Spadefire
Summary: Oneshots featuring my OC, Emma. Pairings include Raikim, brother/sister stuff for just about everybody, and Chase being crazy. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. R&R!
1. Guarded

Guarded

**A/N: Who wants some Raikim? I do! And I'm sure you crazies do too, so help yourselves! This is pathetically short, I know, and I apologize, but I'm still working on writing everybody else, so the Raikim will get better as I go. Enjoy!**

The most intriguing thing about the Wind Dragon, to Emma anyway, were his eyes. They were a bright emerald, unlike any she'd ever seen. Quite fascinating, actually.

What puzzled her, though, was how unreadable they were. She knew how to mask your intentions and bottle your feelings, how to con so well that you almost believe in the illusion- almost- so she knew how to read eyes.

And Raimundo was a closed book. Sure, you could easily tell how he felt by his voice, his posture, how his hands moved, everyday telltale signs she'd learned to pick up. But she just couldn't read his eyes.

And it bugged her.

So she'd throw him off guard, be more spontaneous than usual, less so, ask odd questions intermixed with important or mundane ones, anything to make him lose his cool.

But it didn't. Work. And she was getting annoyed. The experiment had been going on for a week and had still yielded no results. (She had, however, found out that he had very good reflexes and talked in his sleep.)

Oh, sure, she'd thrown him off plenty of times, she was good at that, but though his expressions changed, his eyes didn't. They stayed that guarded, vibrant green. She was going nowhere, fast. Until, finally, she got an answer.

Emma had practically given up, so she was taking a 'sulk walk' around the temple. When she saw Raimundo and Kimiko skipping rocks in the meditation pool, she didn't think much of it, just strolled on by.

But she backtracked when she saw Raimundo's eyes.

They were alight with joy and love, happiness at just being with that special someone. There was no guardedness, no shrouds, and no cover to maintain. Just him and Kimiko, as far as Rai was concerned.

The rest of the day Emma walked around so smugly that everyone thought she'd killed Jack and stolen his fridge.


	2. Never Surrender

Never Surrender.

**A/N: This one feels almost bipolar, but I was listening to Skillet (hence the title) and that usually makes me angsty. And I think that Raimundo would be a really great leader, but get upset if someone got hurt and he could've stopped it. So, here's a dose of morbid-ness and Raikim. Enjoy!**

"I will not surrender. I will not surrender. I will not surrender." The chant echoed around the temple grounds as the sun began to brighten the sky.

Kimiko was doing push-ups, repeating the phrase each time she lifted herself up. "I will not surrender. I will NOT surrender."

Raimundo walked out, yawning. "What are you doing, girl? It's too early in the morning for exercise."

"I will not surrender. Well, Rai, unlike some people, I need to train more than other people. I will not surrender."

Rai scratched his head and leaned against a support beam. "Uh, okay. But why the sudden urge to train harder?"

"I WILL NOT surrender. *huff* You saw where not training got Em. I will not surrender. I will NOT surrender."

Raimundo's eyes widened. He looked at the horizon sadly. "Yeah. Yeah, I did," he muttered.

"Any word on how she's doing? I will NOT surrender."

"That's what I came out to tell you. Can we... can we talk?"

"I thought we already were," Kimiko replied, standing and stretching.

"You know what I mean." Raimundo sat on the front steps, and Kimiko sat beside him. They were facing the sunrise, painting the sky in yellows and pinks.

"I asked the doctor. He said... he said we'll be lucky if she makes it through the night. If she can, her immune system will start to stabilize, but if she can't..."

Kimiko gasped. "Oh... Oh no..." Raimundo nodded, running his hands through his already tousled hair. Kimiko noticed that he didn't seem to have gotten any sleep.

"Clay's taking it pretty well, all things considered. He hasn't eaten in almost a full day, though. He won't leave her side."

Kimiko felt tears begin to form. "A-and Omi?"

"I don't think he understands the concept of death very well. He keeps asking Master Fung why she won't wake up. The poor kid's probably still in shock from all that blood."

Raimundo put his head between his knees. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't been goofing off, I would've gone through the Showdown, and probably won. She was too new, too inexperienced..."

"Rai, it wasn't your fault! It was Jack! He's the one that-"

"No, it WAS my fault!" Raimundo interrupted, lifting his head to look at Kimiko. She inwardly gasped at the tears streaming down his face.

"I'M the leader! It's up to me to make sure that nobody gets hurt! And I FAILED, Kimiko! And my stupidity is gonna make a friend DIE!" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "It's all my fault. And if she does... you know... it'll be her blood on my hands."

His eyes opened in surprise when he felt himself getting hugged. Kimiko was crying as well, but that didn't seem to deter her from not letting go.

Finally, she released him and looked him in the eyes. "Raimundo Pedrosa. It is not your fault. It's Jack's fault. Emma's a fighter; she's gonna make it, I promise."

Raimundo nodded, wiping his eyes. "Okay. Okay. I understand."

Kimiko nodded. "Good. And when we go into battle next time, you're gonna get a chance to redeem yourself. Don't screw it up, 'kay?"

Raimundo laughed a little. "'Kay." Kimiko stood and returned to the mat she was using for her push-ups. "H-hey, Kim?" She turned towards her Brazilian friend.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For... for everything." Kimiko smiled and nodded.

"You're welcome."

Raimundo walked back inside. Kimiko sighed and looked at the rapidly rising sun. Then she began again. "I will not surrender. I will not surrender. I will not surrender."


	3. Training

Training

**A/N: Aww. Ain't they just the cutest? Ahem. Anyhow, this was more than a little spur-of-the-moment I-can't-sleep-so-I'll-write, but I like how it came out. Enjoy!**

Clay walked into the temple, stretching and yawning. It had been another long, hard day of training, and he just wanted to go to bed.

Well, eat dinner and go to bed. But he needed to keep at it, so he decided to just get a snack.

As he entered the kitchen, he was surprised to find it empty. Even though he had stayed out much later than the others, (he was gonna get that new move right if it killed him,) he had expected Raimundo to be in there with a bowl of ice cream, like usual.

But the Texan just shrugged it off and made himself a sandwich. He was about to sit down when he heard a shuffling from the hallway. Clay ducked into the shadows, planning to jump out and yell boo if it was Rai.

However, it was a groggy Irish teen that trod in. Clay watched in amusement as she headed to the fridge, obviously half-asleep. She smacked into it, stumbling back and shaking her head.

Her glasses were absent and her eyes half-lidded in drowsiness.

Emma's hair was messy, but it wasn't too much of a stretch from its normally wild state. She wore an oversized Green Bay Packers jersey and dark green pajama pants that seemed a size too large, dragging a little over her bare feet.

Emma felt around for the handle, pulling open the fridge and removing the milk. She poured herself a glass and put the container back, heading over to the table. As she sat down, Emma stared blearily at Clay's sandwich.

"Wha...?" Clay stepped forward, barely repressing a grin.

"Clay? 'S that you? I can't see a thing without m' glasses..." Emma muttered, squinting.

"Yeah, it's me. What're you doin' up this late?" Clay asked.

"M' gettin' milk... duh," she said, pointing to her glass. She shook her head to try and clear the cobwebs of sleep out. "Have you been training all this time?"

"Uh... maybe." Emma glared at him, crossing her arms.

"What did Master Fung tell us about overexerting ourselves? I'd expect this from Omi, not you." Clay rubbed the back of his head at the scolding.

"Ah just really wanted to work on the new move Master Fung's teachin' us. Omi's already got it down, an' we only been at it fer two days," he replied, taking a seat himself and digging into his sandwich.

"An' I get that. But I'm worried about you, Clay," Emma said. "If you keep this up you'll be insanely sleep-deprived, and I should know."

Clay chuckled at the memory as Emma took another gulp of milk. "Yeah, guess ya would. Ah just really wanna prove that Ah'm as good as Ah ever was."

Emma gave him a soft smile. "Who are you trying to prove it to?"

"Ah-" Clay stopped. The others knew that he was just as capable of holding his own in a fight as the rest of them. Master Fung knew it. Heck, the Heylin knew it full well. So who? "... Ah guess mahself."

"Well, cut it out. You're fudgin' amazing, and that's that." She gave a resolute nod before finishing off her milk. "Now, I'm going to bed, and you are too."

"But-"

"No buts. Bed." Clay sighed and set his plate in the sink.

"Alright. G'night." He headed down the hall to his room, trying to think of ways he could get back outside without attracting any attention. However, his train of thought was interrupted when he noticed that he was being followed.

"Uh... Em? What're ya doin'?"

"Making sure you don't try and run off to train more," she replied nonchalantly.

"Oh." Internally, Clay wanted to hit his head against a wall. Sometimes that girl knew him almost too well. "Okay then," he replied, externally pretending not to care. Emma followed him to his room, stopping outside the door.

"'Night," he said, walking in.

"'Night!" she replied, not moving. Clay seethed, knowing that she wouldn't move for hours at least. And since there were no windows, it looked like he was stuck. He sighed and put his pajamas on, laying on his mat.

He listened, waiting for her to go away, but she didn't. He knew she was persistent enough to not sleep at all herself if it meant making sure a friend was okay.

"You can go now," he called. Emma poked her head inside the door.

"I still don't trust you," she said, frowning.

"Have it yer way," Clay said, shrugging and turning away. He heard the door shut, and turned towards it- to see Emma sitting against it.

"Yeah. Not happening." Clay glared at her and she glared back. It looked like she wasn't giving up just yet.

"Fine! Goodnight," Clay said, rolling over so his back was to the door. He closed his eyes, not expecting drowsiness to encompass him. Though he fought to keep his eyes open, he found it getting harder as time went by.

"Oh, little sleepy boy, d'you know what time it is? The hour of your bedtime's long been past. And though I can tell you're fightin' it, I can tell when you rub your eyes you're fading fast. Oh, fading fast."

Clay blinked in surprise to hear the loudspoken tomboy singing a lullaby, but he figured she thought he was asleep, so he played along.

"Won't you run come see St. Judy's comet roll across the skies, and leave a spray of diamonds in its wake. I long to see St. Judy's comet sparkle in your eyes when you awake. Oh, when you wake awake.

"Little boy, won't you lay your body down. Little boy, little boy, won't you close those weary eyes. Ain't nothin' flashin' but the fireflies.

"Well I sang it once, I'm gonna sing it twice, I'm gonna sing it three times more. I'm gonna stay 'till your resistance is overcome. 'Cause if I can't sing my boy to sleep it makes this longtime fighter feel so dumb.

"Won't you run come see St. Judy's comet roll across the skies, and leave a spray of diamonds in its wake. I long to see St. Judy's comet sparkle in your eyes when you awake. Oh, when you wake awake.

"Little boy, won't you lay your body down. Little boy, little boy, won't you close those weary eyes. Ain't nothin' flashin' but the fireflies.

"Oh, little sleepy boy, d'you know what time it is? The hour of your bedtime's long been past. And though I can tell you're fightin' it, I can tell when you rub your eyes you're fading fast. Oh, fading fast."

Her lullaby finished, Clay could hear Emma stand and crack open the door. "'Night, cowboy," she murmured. "Sweet dreams." And with that, she slipped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. Clay waited for a moment, and then sighed. He wished she would've stayed just a little longer... but then chastised himself for thinking that. She was just a friend, and she'd sing any other friend to sleep if she wanted to.

... Right?


	4. Heylin

Heylin

**A/N: This was written because I felt the need to explain something. Emma is not a good person. She's not a very good heroine, and while she tries her best, she's really more suited to the Heylin side, and she knows it. So this has always been an inner struggle for her, and when Chase picks up on it, he exploits it. But I'm leaving this a oneshot to let y'all wonder what happens. Why? Heck if I know. Enjoy!**

Emma frowned as she walked cautiously into the clearing. She knew she shouldn't be here. She should be back at the temple, training or doing chores or hunting for Wu because she was really not supposed to be here.

But somewhere deep inside her, she felt that she had to be here.

Because she was backed into a corner and this was her last get out of jail free card, and it came with a lot of power. But, like anything involving a lot of power, it came with a price.

She had scarcely gotten to the center of the clearing when an all- too-familiar figure emerged from the shadows. Even though she knew he'd be there, it took all she had not to jump in surprise. "Hello, witchling," he said, giving a slight bow. "So nice to see you came to your senses."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here, we've established that. Now tell me exactly what you want."

The man smiled, holding out a familiar container. "Recognize this?" he asked, smirking.

Emma faltered, trying not to show any weakness. "Lao Mang Long," she whispered.

The man gave a spine-chilling chuckle. "Yes. And I'm sure you know what it does?"

"Corrupts you," Emma muttered, volume growing, "changes you, twists your body and mind until you become something you're not."

The man chuckled again. "I see description is your strong suit. I would expect no less from an artist and a writer."

"Stalker."

"In any case, I have a proposition for you."

"Like what? 'Come to the dark side, we've got cookies.' Or maybe, 'Emma, I am your father, cue asthma attack!' Nothin' doin'."

The man laughed, and now Emma shuddered. "You are most entertaining, witchling. But I see through your ruse. You want the power, the strength... the respect."

"Like you did," Emma countered. "But I'm not like you, Chase."

Chase shook his head pityingly. "Oh, child, for all you possess, you still have much to learn. You're exactly like me! Seemingly set in your beliefs, yet you constantly feel that urge towards evil. And it's a wonderfully delicious feeling, isn't it?"

Emma frowned, thinking. "Hn. I'd say you were a better man than I, Gunga Din... but that'd be a lie. Why're so intent on me, anyway? Why not Omi or Rai?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Those two have proved their worthlessness to the Heylin side. You, on the other hand, have potential. Evil potential."

"And backwards magic, right?" Emma deadpanned. Chase chuckled again, now circling her in a way that reminded her of a tiger closing in on prey.

"Very perceptive, witchling," he said, smiling. "Yes, your magic would be a great asset to our forces. But I won't force you to make a decision- you can think about it."

He handed her the ornate container, returning to the shadows as he spoke. "Think carefully, witchling," he called.

"I'm your only way out."


	5. Lullaby

Lullaby

**A/N: Emma would want a sibling that actually cared for her, (her backstory is full of sadness and junk,) so she'd be real protective of the little guy. So, here's some familial, brother/sister fluff. Enjoy!**

Emma glanced into Omi's room. He had been strangely quiet all day, not even bragging when he beat Raimundo at sparring. As she peered in, she saw he was meditating.

He looked up as she entered. "Hello, Emma," he said quietly. "Is something wrong?"

"I was just about to ask you that, kiddo. What's up? You've been really withdrawn today."

Omi sighed and looked at his hands. "Today is the anniversary of my arrival at the temple. It just reminds me of how I don't know my parents."

Emma gave him a small smile. "I won't lie to ya by sayin' I understand what it's like, but I will say I know how it is to feel alone."

Omi gave her a doubtful look. Emma laughed, patting his head. "Trust me, O. That's a can of worms you don't wanna open." Omi raised an eyebrow at the phrase, but otherwise remained quiet.

It was a long silence that enveloped the pair as they sat quietly, each immersed in their respective thoughts.

"If... if it'd make ya feel any better... I could sing to you like my old man used to sing to me," she offered weakly. "I know I'm not the best singer but..."

"That would be nice," Omi replied, leaning against the older girl.

"Over in Killarney, many years ago, me mother sang a song to me, in tones so sweet and low; just a simple little ditty, in her good old Irish way, and I'd give the world if she could sing that song to me this day.

"Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-ra-li, too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, hush now don't you cry! Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-ra-li, too-ra- loo-ra-loo-ra, that's an Irish lul-la-by.

"Oft, in dreams I wander, to that cot again. I feel her arms a-hugging me, as when she held me then. And I hear her voice a-humming to me in days of yore, when she used to rock me fast asleep outside

he cabin door.

"Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-ra-li, too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, hush now don't you cry! Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-ra-li, too-ra- loo-ra-loo-ra, that's an Irish lul-la-by.

"Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-ra-li, too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, hush now don't you cry! Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-ra-li, too-ra- loo-ra-loo-ra, that's an Irish lul-la-by."

Omi was silent for a few moments more, and Emma worried that her singing had actually been bad enough to knock him out or something. But her fears were soon assuaged when he spoke.

"Is this what being a brother feels like?" he asked. Emma smiled softly and nodded.

"I'd reckon so, boyo. I'd reckon so."


	6. Stereotyping

Stereotyping

**A/N: I live in a place where we have Southern accents, though I won't say where, (haHA! Take that, stalkers!) and a friend of mine moved down to Florida. She then got ridiculed in her new school because of her accent and where she was from. One, I am very disappointed in you Floridians. Be more hospitable. Two, I wrote this 'cause I think Clay would feel the same. Emma's got a little bit of an accent 'cause she's from Indiana, and Raimundo's got one 'cause he's from Brazil, but Clay's is really prominent. Anyway, rant over. Enjoy!**

Clay frowned. He was annoyed. It usually took a lot to annoy him, (unless you were Raimundo, of course, who could get anybody riled up easy as he pleased,) but this was silly. He shouldn't be upset about this, he really shouldn't, but he was. And that just made him more annoyed.

Of course, the first person to see his peeved-offedness was Emma.

It was weird how she could do that- then again, she was the walking, talking definition of weird. Not that her friends minded, of course; it was always left to the brunette to make sure everybody was grinning.

"Dia duit," she said, sauntering up beside him. "And what troubles our resident cowboy today?"

"That's just it," Clay muttered.

Emma's brows furrowed in worry. "O-oh, I'm sorry, did I-"

Clay shook his head. "Naw, ya didn't do nothin'. It's just-" he sighed. "Ah'm so annoyed that every time we all go out t' eat or somethin', everybody around us assumes that just 'cause Ah'm from Texas means Ah'm dumb."

Emma nodded as he continued. "Ah'm just so sick of th' stereotype! Ah'd wear diff'rent clothes but it just..."

"Don't feel right?" Emma offered, giving him a small smile. He returned it, tipping his hat.

"Exactly. Ah just wanna know why country seems to be equivalent t' ignoramus! Ah'm real smart, an' well-rounded t' boot! Ah read Shakespeare an' watch ice-skatin' just as much as Ah rope cows an' ride tractors! It just ain't fair."

Emma gave him a sympathetic smile. "I know it sounds weird, but I understand." Clay glanced at her confusedly. "No, really!"

"How so?" the Texan asked.

"Kimiko and I get stereotyped as weak because we're girls. Raimundo gets stereotyped as a degenerate because of where he comes from. And Omi... well." Clay chuckled at the last bit. "Point is, we understand. I understand." She patted his arm. "Ya ain't alone, Clay."

Clay smiled. "Thanks, Em." Emma blushed at the nickname, but returned his smile.

"No problem, cowboy," she replied, walking off. "No problem at all."


	7. Chase's Riddle

Chase's Riddle

**A/N: I promised y'all some crazy Chase, didn't I? I gotta say, Chase is fun to write, because he's elegant and evil, and he just borders on the edge of insanity. But I think that, every now and then, Xiaolin will shine through, the man he used to be still fighting back. Anyway, that's my theory. XD Here we get a small taste of Emma actually not being an ignoramus, which is a hidden trait for her. Enjoy!**

Emma glared. "Well? I'm weak, barely able to stand, much less defend myself. You'll never get a better chance to kill me, Young."

Chase smirked. "I know. But I like my victims able to fight back. It's no fun killing them without the satisfaction of beating them down first."

"Wow, you're not creepy," Emma muttered. "Anyway. What do you want if you don't want to kill me? I thought that was your goal in life, other than, y'know, ruling the world."

"A battle!" Chase said, spreading his arms. "While you are no match for me physically, I believe your wits to be a challenge enough."

Emma grinned. "Well, you always were one for flamboyance. Alright, Chase, what've you got? A chess match, an exploding messenger pigeon, a Deadpool? Waitaminnit…"

"A riddle. For the freedom of your friends and yourself," he answered. "If you answer correctly, you can all leave without any interference. My warriors will no longer inhabit your temple, I will release you and the other monks can go back."

"And if I answer incorrectly?" Emma asked warily.

"I kill you one by one," he replied.

"... Hn." The girl thought for a moment, weighing the odds. "... Okay, then. Shoot."

Chase grinned evilly. "I was hoping you'd say that. Riddle me this! A three-part question, if you will.

Firstly: what cannot be destroyed by me, only made stronger and more fragile at the same time?

Secondly: what is poison to my enemies and nectar to me, because I was poisoned?

Thirdly: how many names do I have?

Lastly: which one is me?"

Emma blinked. "Stronger but fragile... for you... hm. In the kiln, clay is made stronger, but also more brittle and therefore fragile. So, the first one is fire.

"The second one... ah... poison... oh! Your enemies are the Xiaolin, and you are Heylin because of Lao Mang Long, which you need to survive. The second one is Lao Mang Long soup.

"The third one is the one you gave me an answer to. Three, of course, because after every three there is a five, and you've got two of them.

"And the last one is you. A trick question, because you're all of them. The Dragon of Fire, before you were poisoned by Lao Mang Long, and you had the dragon instilled in you. But you also got a little cat, too," she added, motioning to the various jungle cats surrounding them, "and, 'I tell you, each cat must have three different names.'" Emma gave him a sad smile. "Sorry, Chase. But... you knew who you were dealing with."

Chase nodded, all mirth gone. "Yes. I suppose I did. Remind me never to underestimate you again." Emma nodded. "You and the others may go. My warriors will leave your temple."

Emma nodded again. "Good. And, I know it won't mean anything, but... thanks." Chase nodded back.

"It doesn't. But you're welcome." Emma smiled, before straightening up and walking out. "See ya next round, Chase."

Chase shook his head, smirk returning. "See you then."


	8. Gamble

Gamble

**A/N: One of two things. First off, you'll notice I'm never quite clear on who the girl is. We know that Chase is Chase, and he's being weakened without a direct answer from this girl, but otherwise, the only thing we're certain of is their impending doom. Secondly, I am indeed making a reference when I talk about the fearmonger and the yellow creature. For the person who catches it, I will write a prompt using the couple and word of their choosing. ;D Enjoy!**

"Do you fear death?"

The question hung heavy in the greenish gloom. The girl found the air thick and difficult to breathe in, much less speak. It was difficult to move, too, so she didn't even try to escape, just continued to kneel in the soft earth. She knew the answer, and he knew the answer, but she wasn't going to give it to him. Not yet.

"Do you know what it's like to hope as a child for the impossible? To be told that you can dream, but then to be told as you grow up that dreams are no longer acceptable? To feel that shattering in your core when you realize that you can't possibly be right, that all your what- ifs are for nothing? To be told that hope is stupid, when hope is all you have?"

"Do you fear death?"

The question was repeated, and the air did not become any less stifling. She could feel the eldritch lights, almost like will-o-wisps, floating around them. They were starting to dim. As they dimmed, the area around them, obscured by off-green mist, began to grow quieter and quieter. The fearmonger was coming. But not yet.

"Do you know what it's like to become cold? To lose everything you used to have because happiness is equated with weakness, and weakness cannot be tolerated? To fake all day until you crash into your bed, sobbing for a thousand reasons, and yet you can't name one? To walk a razor's-edge of sanity and the deep, cold comfort of depravity?"

"Do you fear death?"

The question was becoming more important to him, and time was running out. But she supposed that was all time ever did, run out. For her, for him, for everyone. She needed to answer soon. As soon as he knew her answer, had his key, he would leave her there. He would not help. He was not kind. He may have been once, but the dragonblood changed him when he was jealous. All she could do now was answer questions with questions, and hope that, perhaps, he would weaken enough to stop.

"Do you know what it's like to have your heart broken? To love someone with all your being, but to know that they'll never love you back? To feel that cracking sensation resonate within your chest, a monstrous metallic scream? To realize that you will be alone, forever and ever, because they were the one and they'll never be yours?"

"DO YOU FEAR DEATH?"

He was trying desperately to control himself. Somehow, she gained the energy to look up at him. His eyes were the color of gold and amber and the reflection of the sunset off the ocean. He wasn't crying. He would never cry, certainly not for her. But maybe...

"You know. You were a dreamer, but they broke you, turned you cold and pained. And then... then your heart broke."

"D-do you... fear death?"

He just managed to force it out, the pain evident in his voice. The girl reached over, arm shaking with the effort, and placed a comforting hand on his foot. And, for the first time in a long time, he was given a real, genuine gift.

She gave him a smile. "No, Chase. I don't think I've ever feared it. We're both broken, y'see, an' that's what makes the both of us unafraid of death."

"But... I _am_ afraid," he whispered, falling to his knees. She could see the spell taking it's toll, even with the key given to him.

He was at his most vulnerable without the Lao Mang Long, and both of them knew it.

"It's okay," she replied, leaning forward and giving him a hug. "When death comes, you won't be."

"Okay," he murmured, closing his eyes. "I suppose the spell is killing me. Never thought it would end like this."

"No, it's just weakening you," she comforted. "You'll be alright."

"A-and you?" he asked, unmoving.

"You're most likely going to leave me once you regain your strength and sense of mind." She pulled back, giving him another small smile. "But it's okay. I think I was about to die anyway."

Chase looked up. "I can see the stars." The girl looked up as well, and they watched the constellations shift and glimmer in the velvet-dark sky. After a while, Chase frowned, feeling the energy seep back into him.

"I'm leaving." He stood, albeit shakily, and turned away.

"Goodbye," she said quietly, closing her eyes as the lights faded even more, allowing the inky blackness of the sky to creep in, tendrils reaching down and out. "And by the way." Chase stopped, not looking back but not moving forward. "You don't have to do it."

Chase scoffed and shook his head, walking away. "Of course I don't _have_ to. I _choose_ to."

"So be it," she whispered, knowing that he had disappeared into the gloom. She felt a stirring around her, and opened her eyes to see a huge, yellow, insect-like beast in front of her. It had been killing a long time before her, and would go on long after she was dead. It had fought those who wielded the light of will, taken many of theirs, and lost. That was all that mattered at the moment; that it was beatable.

"You want me?" she snarled, rising as an adrenaline boost gave her energy. Her hands glowed as her will to live was restored. She knew this may be the end, but she was gonna go down fighting. Broken or not, she was no coward.

"Come get me."


	9. Teaghlaigh

Teaghlaigh

**A/N: SO MUCH IRISH. I can speak a little, but most of this had to be done via translator. XD So, this pretty much centers around my OC, Emma, because I felt the need to write something about her. Also, she's had a real tough break, and could use something good in her life at this point. Enjoy!**

Emma glared at her paper. "No no NO! AARGH." She crumpled up the picture and tossed it at the trash can, where it joined the many other discarded papers.

"Why can't I get this right? I know how I want them to look, but the Sparklings keep coming out wrong," she muttered, listening to her pen scratch at the paper. It sounded as if the pen was talking to itself, just like her. "Living pens... hmm. Movie idea!"

"Emma!" Omi yelled. Emma ran from her room to where he and the other Dragons were gathered around Dojo. "A new Shen Gong Wu has revealed itself," he explained.

"It's called the Chuàngzào Pen. It makes anything you draw with it come to life, but only for a short amount of time," Dojo informed them.

"Hey, this sounds right up yer alley, Emma!" Clay said.

"I'll say! Let's jet!" Emma cried, grinning.

"Yeah. What's cooler than bringing your every whim to life?" Raimundo asked.

"A pirate who's secretly a ninja," Kimiko replied. And, because it was true, everybody oohed and ahhed in appreciation of Kimiko being the first to say it.

The Warriors got on Dojo and they headed out. "So where are we headed?" Clay asked, adjusting his hat.

"The Pen's somewhere in Ireland," the dragon replied, smelling the air.

Emma's eyes widened. Ireland. "Finally..." she whispered to herself. "I finally get to see it."

Because Dojo was a dragon, they reached Ireland in a matter of minutes. As they all jumped off, Emma stayed on Dojo, looking wide-eyed at the scenery.

Rolling oceans of grass and stone blurred into the horizon. The hills would be calm and smooth at one point, and jutting at another. In the distance, a lake was cradled between two rocky hills. Even farther on was a number of fields. The sky was so blue it seemed gray, and a multitude of clouds crowded it.

Emma slid to the ground, her feet hitting the earth at the same time. She felt a warmth spread through her as she looked on. To her, there was only one word to describe the feeling. _"Home."_

"What was that?" Kimiko asked, turning. "Emma? Did you say something?"

"Wh-what? Oh. Ah, no, no I didn't. L-Let's go," the brunette said, catching up with the others. Her friends exchanged confused glances, but said nothing.

Dojo led the group, perched on Clay's hat. "It's right in there," he said, pointing to a small town that had been hidden by the hills before.

As the Warriors entered the town, Emma put a hand to her forehead. "Hh..."

"You okay?" Clay asked.

"Yeah. It's just- I feel like I've been here before," she answered quietly. "Weirdtastic."

Dojo steered them towards one of the many small shops on the street. There was a hanging sign above the door that read Soláthairtí Ealaín.

"Art Supplies," Emma read.

"What? It doesn't even look like that!" Kimiko said.

"That's 'cause English isn't related to the language used in Ireland at all, really," she explained. "But I spent a few years learning Gaelic back at home, so we should be okay."

Raimundo sniggered. "Gaelic." Clay smacked him upside the head while the girls glared. Omi remained confused.

"Still, you're positive?" Kimiko asked. Emma pointed to the shop window, which displayed several different types of sketchpads and drawing materials. "Oh. Right."

They entered the surprisingly well-lit shop, pretending to be average customers. "Gettin' anything, Dojo?" Clay asked quietly.

"Ahh- there!" the dragon said. He was pointing to an ornate pen in a locked glass case. Emma walked up to it, admiring the detail. It was a capped fountain pen, thin and cylindrical, with a golden, dragon-shaped clip.

"Hey, that kinda looks like me!" Dojo chuckled. Emma glanced around for the shop owner, and saw him sitting behind the counter, rapidly drawing.

He appeared to be in his late thirties, with reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes. He wore an apron over his normal clothes, and a pair of glasses sat on his nose.

Emma walked up to the counter. "Gabh mo leithscéal, a dhuine uasail ," she said. The man looked up, surprised.

"Dea-maidin. Conas is féidir liom cabhrú leat?" he replied. It was obvious that he knew Emma was a foreigner, though he continued to speak Gaelic.

"Cé mhéad is é sin, i gcás níos mó ná peann ann?" The man glanced at the case.

"Tá Sin peann curtha i mo theaghlach do na glúnta. Tá sé díreach ar taispeáint, tá mé eagla." Emma's face fell.

She turned back to her friends. "Sorry, guys. He says it's been in his family for generations, so he won't sell it."

"Shoot." Clay muttered. "Ain't there any way we can tell 'im why we need it?"

Emma thought for a moment. "Lemme try." She turned back to the man. "A dhuine uasail, mo chairde agus mé- mé- uh- um- AARGH!

"Okay, I'm sorry but I don't know how to say 'We are the Xiaolin Warriors and that pen is a magical artifact that could save lives if in our hands so we'd really appreciate it if you gave it to us.'" She somehow managed to say it all in one sentence, panting at the end. "Never thought I'd need to."

"Well, if that's the case, I'd be more than happy to give it to ye." The kids stared in surprise as the man walked to the case and unlocked it. "What?" he asked, seeing the Warrior's astonished expressions. "Ye coulda just said so."

"Eh-heh. Right." Emma grinned sheepishly as the others glared. "I knew that."

"Here. Th' O'Reiley line's endin' around here anyway; no need t'keep it. Doubt Danny would want it anyway." Emma gasped.

"Wait- your last name is O'Reiley?" The man nodded.

"Aye. Matthew O'Reiley. Why-"

"And your brother's name is Danny?" Emma asked, eyes wide.

"Aye. We don't talk anymore, though; we had a fallin'-out when he last came-"

"Did he move to America and come visit you with his daughter later?"

"Ay- how d'ye know all this?" Mr. O'Reiley asked.

"Because I'm your niece!" Now everybody stared at Emma in surprise. "I-I know that there are a lot of O'Reileys, but none near here! You said so yourself, sir. And even if there were, how many others have a brother named Danny, who moved to America?

"When we came here, it felt insanely familiar, but I haven't been able to figure out why. It's because I was here once, when Dad brought me along to see you. I never remembered much of it, but now I understand why I'm feeling all this nostalgia.

"I know it sounds crazy, but I've been looking for you for years! My mom had no siblings so you're my only extended family! My name's Emmaline, but everybody calls me Emma."

She held out her hand.

Mr. O'Reiley was silent for a moment. Emma lowered her hand slightly, looking disappointed. "I- I'm sorry- I didn't mean to offend you or anything-"

The man pulled her into a bear hug. "Haha!" He set her down again, grinning. "Oh, lass, ye didn't offend me! I can't believe ye came back! Why, when I last saw ye, ye were but a wee thing!" He suddenly grew concerned. "But why didn't ye come sooner?"

"Well, after I left home to help the Xiaolin Warriors-" she motioned to her friends, who waved, "- I set out a few times to look for you. But my dad had only told me that you existed and that I'd

met you before; he wouldn't tell me where you were or how to find you or anything."

Mr. O'Reiley shook his head. "If that don't sound just like him- hmph. Emma, if I'd known ye were lookin' for me I'dve tried to help. I really am sorry, lass."

Emma beamed. "Oh, I don't blame you, Mr. O'Reiley. I understand completely. Honestly, I'm just glad to have found ya!"

The man waved a hand. "Call me Uncle Matt. Now, then, I believe ye wanted this?" he asked, gesturing to the case. However, the glass was gone and the pen had vanished. "What-?"

"Sorry to break up the family reunion- _not_- but I'll be taking this!" a familiar voice taunted. Everyone looked outside to see Jack holding the Pen, grinning victoriously.

The Dragons ran outside to stop Jack from getting away as Emma turned to her uncle. "Uncle Matt, that's Jack Spicer, he-"

"Bad guy, I get it. Do what ye have to," he said, nodding. Emma gave him a thumbs-up and dashed out. Jack had unleashed his robots and was directing them at the Dragons.

"Spicer's mine," Emma said to the Warriors as she joined them.

"We get it. Your family, your fight," Kimiko said, remembering the time her father had been tricked by Panda Bubba.

"Good luck," Clay said before smashing through an unlucky Jack-bot. "Be careful."

"Will do. Rai, boost!" The Shoku Warrior sent a blast of wind Emma's way. She grinned and grabbed the corners of her jacket, creating a makeshift kite. "YEE-HAW!" she cried as the wind shoved her into the air.

The gust died down after a second, but it was all Emma needed. She landed on a hovering Jack-bot, jumping from robot to robot until she reached Jack. With one final jump, she launched herself at Jack, tackling him from the air.

As they fell, the Chuàngzào Pen fell too, landing near a bench. Emma scrambled to her feet, making a mad dash for the Wu. Jack activated his helipack, reaching it at the same time.

"Emma, I challenge you to a Xiaolin Showdown!"

* * *

><p>Emma and Jack glared at each other. "I accept, and wager my Lasso<p>

Boa Boa against your Third Arm Sash. The game is art fight. Last kid

standing wins."

"Let's go, XIAOLIN SHOWDOWN!" The scenery flashed and distorted,

the competing teens standing on towers made of oversized sketchbooks

with the Chuàngzào Pen hovering between them.

The Dragons of Earth, Fire and Water were clad in their combat

uniforms, with Rai wearing his Shoku robes. Emma was wearing her

normal robes, the Lasso Boa Boa tied around her waist like a belt.

"GONG YI TAMPAI!" Jack was the first to make a move. "Third Arm Sash!" The Wu stretched out and grabbed the Pen. "Chuàngzào Pen!" The Sash sketched out something on Jack's platform. A moment later, a perfect steamroller rose from it, with rocket boosters in the back.

"Since when is Jack an artist?" Kimiko asked.

"Well, the Chuàngzào Pen makes whatever you draw look exactly like it does in real life when it brings it to life," Dojo explained.

"Yeah... she's doomed," Rai said, shaking his head.

"Eep!" Emma jumped out of the way as the steamroller flew at her. She turned to face it, her back to Jack's platform as she stared at the machine. "Bring it," Emma sneered. The steamroller charged at her, its victim not moving until the last second. When it was less than a foot away, Emma jumped to the side again.

The steamroller barreled through, unable to stop. It headed straight at Jack, who screamed and flew up. The steamroller dissipated as it was about to fall off the edge.

"Oh, yes, it only stays for a short time," Omi recalled.

Emma grinned at the distraction. "My turn. Lasso Boa Boa!" She aimed the Wu at Jack, and it circled the Pen, bringing it back to Emma. "Chuàngzào Pen!" She bent down and scribbled furiously, rising with her creations. A tiger, lion and a panther stood beside her, staring hungrily at Jack.

"Thought I'd take a page from Chase Young's book," she crowed, balancing the Pen on the tip of her index finger. "Feeding time!" The cats roared and leapt across to Jack's platform, swiping at him from the ground.

"Ha! Sorry, but those stupid cats can't fly!" Jack boasted, reclining mid-air.

"Oh, gee, guess I overlooked that," Emma drawled. "Fast fact about cats, Jack- they can jump up to 20 times their own height," she said offhandedly, sitting down to doodle.

If possible, Jack went paler than usual. "Mommy!" The cats leapt up and grabbed him by his coat, dragging him to the edge of the platform by his coat. But just as he was about to be pushed off, they disappeared. Jack cackled as he leapt back to his feet. "Ha! Third Arm Sash!" His Wu flashed out for the Pen, but Emma was ready. She kept a firm hold on it, but began to panic when he dragged her to the edge.

"Chuàngzào Pen!" she cried. The things she'd drawn while Jack was getting attacked spring to life and began gnawing and tugging at the Sash.

"GAH! What are those things?" Jack cried as he was pulled nearer to the edge.

"Sparklings," Emma replied, grinning. "And I think you'll find them quite... shocking." The yellow creatures let loose a burst of electricity down the Sash, keeping it from Emma on her side. Jack screeched as he was zapped by a few thousand volts of electricity, tottering over the edge.

"AAAAIIIIIEEEEEE!" he screamed as he fell. Emma pulled herself back just in time.

"Phew! Thanks, guys," she said, waving to her creations as they disappeared. The scenery flashed and distorted just like before, and everyone was standing in the main square of the town, just like before. Emma stood victorious, the Third Arm Sash, Lasso Boa Boa and Chuàngzào Pen all in her arms. Her friends ran up to her, patting her on the back and congratulating her on the win.

Meanwhile, Jack picked himself up and flew off, muttering something about copyright infringement and art class.

"Great job out there!" Raimundo said, punching her in the shoulder. "I never doubted you!"

"Way to go!" Kimiko agreed, taking the Sash off her load and handing the Boa to Raimundo. Emma slipped the Pen into her pocket, giving Kimiko a "Thanks!"

"That was some fancy footwork out there," Clay said approvingly. "And here ya had us thinkin' yer a klutz!"

"Oh, uh, well, I kinda am," Emma admitted. "But I guess five years of ballet and jazz tap finally paid off."

"Yes, your defeat of Jack Spicer was very well orchestrated," Omi said. "But how did you know you would need those Sparklings?"

"Honestly, I was just like drawing 'em fer practice. I didn't think about using 'em in the Showdown; I figured the cats would get the job done."

"That was amazing!" The Warriors turned in surprise to see Emma's uncle\ standing there. "I saw the whole thing an' I can still barely believe it!"

"Thanks a million, Uncle Matt!" Emma said, grinning. "That means the world to me. Oh!" She fished around her jacket pockets, pulling out the Pen. "Here. It still rightfully belongs to you."

The man smiled and shook his head. "Níl, leanbh. It rightfully belongs to ye know." Emma cocked her head in confusion. "Remember that bit about being in th' family fer generations? I don't think giving it to the next-in-line a little early would be too much of a problem."

Emma beamed, tearing up a bit. "Go raibh maith agat. Go raibh míle maith agat an méid sin!" she cried, giving her uncle a hug. The man chuckled and returned it.

"Tá tú fáilte, leanbh." They separated, Emma wiping her eyes.

"I hate to leave so soon after getting to know you, but we need to get going," Emma said, handing him a slip of paper. "Here's my phone number. I'll come visit anytime I can."

"Sounds like a plan. Goodbye!" he called as they all boarded Dojo and took off.

"Goodbye!" Emma called back as they flew away.

Emma grinned at her paper. "Yes yes yes! Finally!" She dashed out to the rec room, where the others were watching The Last Samurai. "Hey, you guys didn't tell me you were watchin' this."

"Rai! You said she told you she was busy!" Kimiko said, glaring at the Brazilian.

"Revenge for the water balloons," he replied, grinning.

"Ooh... that's evil. Genius, but evil. Anyway, I wanted to tell you guys that I've finally done it! My Sparklings have been perfected!"

"Great, Em! We were worried ya'd go nuts tryin' to git those things right," Clay chuckled.

"Well, it was easier after the Showdown," the brunette admitted. "Seeing them IRL helped big time."

"So, let's see 'em!" Kimiko said, peering over Emma's shoulder. "Aww! How cute!"

"Thanks, Kim! I sent a few pictures of 'em in a letter to Uncle Matt."

"It is good that you have a family member that cares about you," Omi said, smiling. "It must be nice after what you have dealt with."

Emma giggled. "Yup. So, what'd I miss?"

* * *

><p>"And you're sure he's the only one."<p>

"Yes, Master."

"Excellent. I now have their key weaknesses in position."

"Are you going to strike them down, sir?"

"Not yet. But soon. Now finish your task. Remember, everything

must be in position for the final blow."

"Yes, Master."

"Let the Age of Darkness... begin."


	10. Backstory

Backstory

**A/N: And now we see why Emma doesn't talk about her family. This is where a lot of her emotional insecurities come into play, so it's pretty crucial to her character. Also, we get to see angsty-Emma and Raimundo being Raimundo. Leader or not, he ain't changing. XD Enjoy!**

The Xiaolin Dragons and their newest recruit had thoroughly enjoyed their off day. A water park, a trip to an ice cream store and a drive-in movie... well, fly-in for them, but close enough. They were currently in the rec room, each sprawled out either on the furniture or the floor, holding a conversation.

It had, like most of their conversations, ranged from the most important things to the least important, 'cause it was interesting that way. They were talking about how their families were doing back home when Clay posed the question.

"Emma, how's yer family doin'?" The girl stiffened visibly from her position on the rug. The Dragons exchanged glances before looking back to her.

"I-" she stared at the floor. "I don't know. And I don't CARE."

"What?" Kimiko asked gently.

"I don't- they- I just don't talk to them anymore. I changed my cell phone number, e-mail address and blocked my parents on Facebook. I don't wanna talk to 'em."

"Why not?" Raimundo straightened up from his place next to Kimiko on the couch.

"'Cause I HATE 'EM. Can we drop the subject now?" she snapped.

"Emma. You will have to tell us about your relationship with your family sooner or later. Would it not be more beneficial for everyone if you just told us now?" Omi asked. Everyone gave him a surprised look; he had never been very good at handling social situations like this.

Emma sighed. "Ya wanna know why I hate my family? Fine. It's 'cause they hate me."

"Why's that, Em?" Clay said.

"I'm not what they wanted. Emma the geek, Emma the shut-in, Emma the tomboy. Emma the failure," she added quietly. "They wanted a daughter that they could show off to their friends, a smart, pretty, successful little girl that would sit still and do as she was told.

"When I was a kid, they thought that my individuality was just a 'phase' and that I'd grow into the role they'd chosen for me. No such luck. So they tried again and got my little sister, Sophie.

"And now they had their little angel. Oh, yes, she was perfect. She got good grades, she was adorable, she was great in the kitchen and garden, she wasn't a finicky eater, she never had her head in the clouds." Emma drew a shaky breath before continuing.

"And then they realized that they didn't have to bother with me anymore. They just wrote me off as the 'moody teenage sister' for their social appearances, so they could spend more time showing off the girl they always wanted. Sophie.

"I tried to get them to notice me. I did. I tried raising my grades. I tried flunking. I tried to show them my art, hoping that maybe they'd see that I DID have a special skill, that I WAS just as good as Sophie!

"But I couldn't! They didn't care! Eventually, I realized that they never would. So I decided that as soon as I could, I'd get outta there and never look back. That's one of the reasons I was so thrilled to be with you guys. If they've tried to find me, it's so that they look like good parents instead of people that only see their kids as a means to an end."

"Dang..." Raimundo whispered.

"Oh, it gets better! Sophie was not only a perfect angel onstage, she was a total brat backstage! She'd hit me and bite me and kick me knowing that I couldn't go to Mom and Dad 'cause they wouldn't care! She constantly tormented me 'cause she loved to see others hurting! I dreaded going to school because of the bullies there, and I dreaded coming home because of the bully there!

"I was NEVER good enough. Never. And I couldn't TAKE it. I don't wanna have to take it again. And that is why I don't talk to my family."

The Warriors were all silent, staring at Emma in various states of shock. She hung her head, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go all full-blown rant on you..."

Clay stood, anger in his eyes. "Sounds t'me like ya had a plenty good reason to! Ah cain't blame ya, an' Ah challenge anyone here t' find a reason to!"

Kimiko nodded and stood as well. "Clay's right! That's not a real family. I may not have had a mom, but at least my dad loved me. That's just WRONG!"

Raimundo joined them. "I'm with you guys. Nobody shoulda gone through that, not even Jack."

Omi was the last to stand. "I agree with the others. Emma, even though your real family didn't care, we do."

"Yeah! We're your family now," Kimiko said, extending a hand to the girl. "Everyone's family here."

Emma gave them a shaky smile and took the offered hand, standing. "Thanks, guys," she said. "That means so much to me."

"Yeah, yeah, we're all sappy here," Rai said, waving his hand. "Now let's go play some Smash Bros!"

At everybody's glare, he shrugged. "What? Just sayin'."


	11. Scars

Scars

**A/N: A friend and I were talking about our scars, and that's where I got this idea. I think that most of us have mental scars ore than physical ones, but they can be equally painful.**

**Emma: On a lighter note, today's Spadefire's birthday! **

**Yeah, 15, big milestone. I can tie my own shoes now! XD In any case, enjoy!**

Everyone has them. They're the bullet points of life, marring us until our dying day and beyond. Some you can see, others you can't. Some are imprinted onto flesh, some imprinted into minds. No matter what surgery, no matter what medicine or treatment, they'll be there forever. Sometime's it's the fact that something's _not_ there that makes them. Scars are things we all have, inside and out. It's just that some people have more than others.

Emma is insane. That made scars in her mind, and, after a while, across her skin. From trying to prove herself to no one, from playing with fire, from fighting too hard too fast. She's a kamikaze in motion, and her knees are going to be black and blue forever with the way she runs. Her scars are small and many, hidden so hat nobody but she knows about them, a little locked box in the back of the dark thing she calls a mind so nobody ever has to see them. For her, reality is an option, as is pain, and she simply puts it away to use the next time she needs something to concentrate on.

Raimundo is a daredevil. He takes risks, gets cocky and doesn't always know when to stop. He's smart, but has little common sense. Years flying above the heads of others in the circus and, later, as the Xiaolin Dragon of Wind has given him the smallest sense of invulnerability. Sometimes he has to take a step back and see his own scars to remember that he can be hurt. His scars are skin level, light and infrequent, visible only on his hands when they're sore and unmoving. The ropes at the circus were rough, as was the net, so he's used to blocking out the pain. But he can't do it forever.

Kimiko's scars are almost all imprinted into her mind. The death of her mother, the fact that, growing up, Keiko was her only friend. She is delicate and watchful of herself, so the few scars on her skin are from her job as the Dragon of Fire. She's careful in combat, but an errant kick can leave a scratch on her leg that doesn't heal all the way, or a miscalculation can send her flying. And even though Raimundo always catches her, it doesn't mean he stays on his feet. But her mental scars are kept quiet and small, so she doesn't have to put that weight on everyone's shoulders, especially not when they already have the weight of the world on their hands. Even so, she sometimes needs to go burn dead wood just to push out the negative feelings she'd come to know so infuriatingly well.

Omi is just a child, but he's been hurt since day one. No parents, no family, but a Temple full of people to love him and teach him and keep his ego at a normal size. He has so few scars on the outside nobody expects him to hurt on the inside. Those people don't know him. He very rarely shows his vulnerable side, but when he does, he's got two sisters, three brothers and a dad to hug him and tell him he's gonna be okay. And when all's said and done, he soldiers on with a perseverance enviable to the greatest warrior.

Clay is strong. It's in his blood and his element, and he doesn't take time to pity himself. His scars are faded but there, earned from hours in the fields and under machinery, pushing his own limits trying to live up to his father's ideals. His scars are hidden by time, but the ones in his mind, where his own sister betrays him and his father doesn't think he can do anything and- well, those stay painful. But he ignores the pain, because he needs to be strong for himself and for others, and he keeps going, one day at a time.

They're not so different from you and I, are they? They're made of magic and wind and fire and water and earth, they feel pain and love and greed and joy, and they scar. They get hurt, they heal, and they keep going, because they know that only cowards give up. So they're an amalgam of Southern quips and paint and graphite and flight and wires and silence and noise and a lot of love. Enough, even, to help them get past their scars.

Yes. Enough and more.


	12. Comet Come Down

Comet Come Down

**A/N: After a combination of seeing the Perseids meteor shower and listening to Owl City's new album, All Things Bright and Beautiful, I wanted to write something like this. It deviates a little from what I had in mind, but I'm okay with how it turned out. :) Enjoy!**

"Clay. Clay. Psssssssssssssssssssst. Claaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. . Pst." The young man groaned and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his ears to block out the soft voice of the newest Xiaolin Warrior. "!" Finally, he lifted his head up, eyes still glazed over from sleep. Emma was kneeling beside him, her black jacket slung over her pajamas, which consisted of a Green Bay Packers jersey and dark green pajama pants. Her head was tilted slightly to the side, and her glasses seemed more askew than normal.

"Wha' izzit?" he muttered, sitting up. Emma was never up this early, (_never_,) so there had to be a good reason for her waking him up. "There somethin' wrong? Everyone okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. But you gotta get outside, now!" she whispered, grinning maniacally. He considered falling back onto his pillow and passing out again, but decided that whatever the reason, if it was good enough for her to be up before the sun, he'd have to listen. He sighed and walked outside with her, the Irish girl barely able to contain her excitement. She led him onto the back porch, where the others stood, faces turned to the sky. Clay walked up to them and looked up as well, immediately realizing why Emma had been so excited.  
>It was a meteor shower. Shooting stars rocketed across the sky, like inaudible fireworks miles away, bathing the land in flashes of white light. The Xiaolin Warriors stood there, watching the sky for another few minutes, when Omi dashed away. The others watched as he ran into the field behind the Temple that descended gently into the valley on the other side, spinning under the meteors. A slow grin spread across Emma's face, who quickly followed suit. Raimundo and Kimiko exchanged a glance, then ran after them, and Clay followed.<p>

They danced long and hard that night, playing tag under the starlight. Kimiko and Emma sang as the boys laid there and listened, tickling both girls afterwards and laughing about absolutely nothing at all. They stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, now and then just lying in a circle and whispering about what shapes the stars were making. Since Raimundo had noticed the meteors on his way to bed after a late-night session of Goo Zombies 12, they'd come out around eleven and stayed until one.

"Hey, guys." The kids were laying in a circle on their backs, watching the stars in silence. Well, they were until Emma spoke. The others turned to her as she continued, the shooting stars reflecting off her glasses. "We'll always be friends, right? Always an' forever, no matter where we go or what we do?"

"Of course," Omi said, nodding. "I cannot see any other future for us."

"I'm with the little guy," Raimundo agreed. "I don't think I could live without you guys."

"Definitely. We need each other, and nobody will ever get in the way of that," Kimiko added.

"After all, we're th' Xiaolin Warriors," Clay said. "Ain't nothin' kin tear us apart."

Emma smiled, blinking away tears. "Good. You guys are the first real friends I've ever had. I don't wanna lose you." Kimiko reached over and squeezed her friend's hand.

"You won't," she said, smiling confidently. Raimundo reached for her hand, the others linking hands to form a small chain. They laid there for what seemed like an eternity, letting their thoughts wander as they watched the sky.

"Friends forever. How incredibly pathetic."

"Do you plan to use this, Master?"

"Of course, you twit. The keystones are aligning themselves, and this only solidifies my victory. We strike soon."

"But Master, without the last piece, you are not fit to battle them!"

"Who said anything about _me_ battling them?"

**A/N: Oooh. 8D And the suspense increases! Er, kinda. Yes, the two at the end are going to be used for a very relevant story I'll be starting after I finish Runa. I've already got the whole thing figured out, but I don't let myself work on more than two stories at a time, so it's under wraps until Runa's done. Stay tuned!**


	13. Absolution

Absolution

**A/N: This is for TheXGrayXLady, who won the mini-contest I had earlier. I'll probably have a couple more later on, ('cause you guys have great ideas, y'know,) so stay tuned. Enjoy!**

The sky was gray. That was the first thing Master Monk Guan noticed on the autumn morning. It was warm, though not uncomfortably so, and a gentle breeze swept across the mountain temple. The sky's hue of gray was so close to white you had to squint when looking up, and the air smelled faintly of the static before a rain. He sighed; days like these had a tendency to go bad. That much he knew from experience.

"Master Monk Guan, sir?" He turned to face a small boy with jet-black hair that grew too long too quickly. "Kaito and Kairi are fighting again."

The man groaned and rubbed his temples. The twins were always getting into trouble, no matter who was watching them or where they were. "I'll be there in a moment, Sōsuke." The boy nodded, gave a small bow, and ran back to the others. Guan smiled faintly; teaching kung fu to children was taxing, but it was the special ones that made it worthwhile. Sōsuke, for example. A good boy, skilled, naïve, and always trying to prove himself, sometimes too hard. He reminded Guan of-

"Hello, Guan." Speak of the Devil. He turned to see Chase poised on one of the stone dragons decorating the stone courtyard. Since Guan's element was earth, rock was used everywhere possible. That meant that Chase wasn't ambushing him- it would be as stupid as Guan ambushing Chase in the middle of a volcano. Guan concluded that he was here to taunt him, if not by stealing his spears, then by insulting him directly.

"Chase." The two were locked in a staring match for a moment, the tension crackling in the air. "Still failing to sneak up on me, I see."

"Still teaching the weak, I see. Children? Really? I thought you ran a temple, not a daycare," Chase sneered, trying to rile up the other man.

"Unless my memory's failing me, you keep losing to children," Guan replied coolly.

Chase snarled. "I'd hardly call the Xiaolin Dragons mere children. When we were that age we defeated opponents almost as great as-" he paused, eyes wide. There were unspoken boundaries none of the old Dragons crossed, and one was talking about the past. He closed his mouth, looking away in a mixture of annoyance at himself for letting that slip and anger at Guan for... well, for everything.

Both men were quiet for a moment, the breeze wafting through as if to remind them that time marched on, even if they refused to. It was then Guan made a small, quiet decision. "I forgive you, you know."

Chase looked back at him, amber eyes wide in surprise. "I was never angry with you. Maybe at the beginning, but after that, I was just... disappointed. You were destined for greatness, Chase. I never challenged that, and I'm not even annoyed that you thought I was. I'm just sad you made the choice you did."

Chase opened his mouth, then closed it again and looked away. "I... I thought..."

"That I would hate you for it?" Guan chuckled. "Dashi might have. Minerva certainly didn't, but that's Min. But me? I couldn't hate my best friend."

"I'm not your friend," Chase said quietly, casting a glance at the marble that made up the open courtyard. "Not anymore."

"Ah, but that's your decision. You don't have to be on the Heylin side. If you accept our help, perhaps with the help of Fung and the others, we can make the cure." Guan extended a hand. "You don't have to choose this path."

Chase looked at the calloused hand. It was a gesture of more than forgiveness- it was Guan's way of trying to mend things. They had once been the closest of friends, and when Chase had let jealousy get between them, it had destroyed Guan. He hoped that maybe, if he could help fix Chase, he could regain what he'd lost. But there was too much pain, too much distance for Chase to ever be able to accept that offer. He'd chosen his path long ago, and he was bound to it, no matter what Guan said. No matter what...

"Of course I don't have to. I choose it of my own free will," Chase scoffed, drawing back. "You think I'd stop myself from reaching my full potential? Please. I've been better off on the Heylin side since day one, especially since I don't have to put up with you."

Guan's eyes widened, then narrowed. "So that's how it's going to be?" It was a final offer, harsh words aside. Both men knew Chase wouldn't take it, but that didn't stop Guan from trying.

"Yes." Another silence resonated throughout the air, and then Guan nodded stiffly.

"Fine." His fists clenched, and two giant marble hands shot out of the ground, forming fists as well. "Get out of my temple."

"Fine." Chase vanished in a swirl of obsidian smoke, and as soon as he left, Guan relaxed his hands, letting the marble return to its original place. His whole body sagged, the pain returning to his frame. Where a strong man had once stood, an empty shell remained, still wondering what he'd done wrong. As it began to rain, he walked back inside, hoping beyond hope Chase had believed him.

Chase watched from a nearby cliff as the other man returned to his students. For a long time, he stayed still, letting the rain wash the smell of brimstone out of his hair and clean the ash off of his armor. He looked up into the quickly darkening sky and, not for the first time, wondered what he'd done wrong.

**AARGH. I tried to give this a happy ending, but I just couldn't… DX I don't think there's ever a happy end in store for those two. At least, not until Chase swallows his pride, which won't happen for another couple eons. Sorry if I totally butchered this!  
>EDIT: Okeeey, fixed it! Sorry about the character misconception, it won't happen again! {XD <strong>


	14. Too Sad To Cry

Too Sad To Cry

**A/N: Hey guys. So, ah, just wanted to tell ya that I won't be on here for the next month or two or twelve. Progress reports came out today and, as usual, I'm sucking epically at math. Feel free to go on ahead to the actual story and skip this rant about my personal life and why it doesn't exsist.**

**See, there's this guy I like, and I told my other friend I liked him, (well, actually, I didn't, he figured out 'cause I can't lie worth crap,) and then he mentioned it right in front of this other guy I really respect and admire, and then both of them made it into this big pity party, which I DID NOT WANT. (I run crying from the room.) So I brought home my progress report thinking my grade was a glitch- it wasn't- and it turns out I'm failing Algebra 2 honors. Surprise surprise. And if that isn't enough, I tried to tell the boy I liked how I felt about him. Here's how the conversation went.**

"**Hey, (let's call him Max,) Max, can I talk to you for a second?"**

"**Yeah, sure, Spade, I wanted to ask you something anyway."**

"**R-really? Okay?"**

"**There's this really sweet, funny, talented, pretty girl I like, but I'm not sure I should tell her how I feel. What do you think?"**

"**Gee, Max, I think you oughta tell her!" (I, of course, am hoping desperately that it's me, though the 'pretty' bit threw me off. I'm actually really ugly in real life. Probably why I've never had any guy ask me out. Ever.)**

"**Okay. Thanks!" (He then proceeds to walk over to a popular girl and ask her out. She accepts. I run crying from the room.)**

**So, yeah. Right now my life is in shambles and I'm waiting for my dad to come home and beat me over the head with my own failure because **_**'I'm smart enough' **_**and **_**'If I just applied myself I could make all A's!'**_** which is dead wrong because I'm an idiot who can't do anything but eat ice cream and cry about her lack of a social life. No, I'm not throwing a pity arty, I'm being honest. I'm stupid and ugly and my self-esteem has become pretty much nonexistent thanks to the populars that call me names in the hallway and treat me like a retarded freak. Thanks, guys. I owe my angst to you. Anyway. I'mma suck it up and give you a story. I recommend you listen to the song while reading it; Imelda May's a great singer and songwriter, and it makes it easier to understand. Sorry. **

_"Hey, Clay!" Emma called, dashing over and waving. "Wanna hit the movies with me an' Rai? We're gonna watch Mega Shark Vs. Giant Octopus three!" _

_ "Aw, sorry, Em, but Ah cain't," Clay said. Emma raised an eyebrow; his hat was absent and his clothes seemed more… _formal_ than usual. Not to mention the fact that his hair was combed._

_"Geez, Clay, what's with the duds?" Emma asked, her grin remaining, though it was tainted with confusion. "You got a date or somethin'?"_

_ "Yep!" Clay replied briskly. "Ashley's meetin' me in thirty minutes, an' Ah don't wanna be late." Emma's eyes went wide, though she quickly masked her horror._

_ "O-oh. Okay. You, uh, you have fun," she said, her voice cracking. "I'll see ya later, then?"_

_ "Yeah, see ya," Clay said, nodding and walking off. Emma's breath hitched as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. She dashed in the opposite direction, almost running into Raimundo. "Emma, you okay?" he asked, but she ignored him, only running faster. When she reached outside, she ignored the rain and kept running, turning her eyes to the sky only long enough to watch Clay take off in the Silver Manta Ray. She turned to go after him, but fell into a mud puddle. _

_ Emma pulled herself up, spitting out mud and wiping it from her glasses. She didn't move, just stared at the murky reflection in a nearby puddle. What she saw was a sodden, miserable girl with tear tracks down her reddened face and mud oozing out of the folds in her jacket. She began to sob, shoulders shaking in the cold._

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_I'm too sad to cry, you won't find a tear in my eye. My baby's gone and hurt me so, I'm way too sad to cry. I'm too tired to die, though my heart has just waved me goodbye. Why so wrong I'll never know, I'm way too tired to die."_

Emma walked along the outer wall of the Temple, the only thing stopping her from a thousand-foot plummet into a rocky mountain gorge. She had half a mind to hurl herself in anyway, and the urge was growing by the second. Anything, everything seemed better than this brokenhearted anguish, even whatever might lay on the other side of death for her. She wasn't entirely sure it would be heaven. She sang anyway, understanding exactly what the lyrics meant.

"_What do I do now, oh I don't care, where do I go now, oh where oh where. Not thinking straight now, oh I despair. Lord won't you carry me away from here?" _

She kicked a rock over, watching it get smaller and smaller until she couldn't see it at all. She couldn't cry, like it said. Maybe because she was so tired. Maybe because of the rain that hadn't stopped pounding her shoulders in icy waves until she was thoroughly drenched. It wasn't fair. She had been a good person for the most part, and weren't good things supposed to happen to good people? Didn't the heroine always get the guy?

"_I'm too sad to cry, you won't find a tear in my eye. My baby's gone and hurt me so, I'm way too sad to cry."_

Then again, she was no heroine. Never had been, never would be. She screamed into the gorge, letting out all her rage and pain and listening to it bounce back. She winced; her scream had been shrill, and the rocks had only sharpened the pitch. She felt the air get a few degrees colder, odd since the person she knew to be approaching her had once been the Dragon of Fire.

"Go the frag away," she said, her voice dull and distant.

"No," Chase said. She turned to glare at him through her fogged-up glasses. "This is a perfect opportunity to-"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" she screamed, finally letting loose. Her fists clenched, sparks flying from them. "YOU GET OUT OF MY TEMPLE AND DON'T EVER COME BACK, YOU HEAR ME?" Chase looked like he was about to fight back, but the flatness in her eyes convinced him otherwise. He stood, brushing mud off of his armor, and flew away, muttering to himself about PMS.

Emma turned back to the gorge. She leaned forward. She wondered why she wasn't falling. The Irish girl glanced down and saw a rock outcropping nudging her toes back. Of course. Earth the thing keeping her from death. Life just _loved_ her today.

She headed back inside, ignoring Master Kai's protests about her tracking mud in. She was willing to bet that earth couldn't stop a Colt .44.

**That's about how I feel. I'mma go chug some cyanide now, see ya never... bye.**


	15. Night Owls

Night Owls

**A/N: Hey, everybody! Sooo, uhm yeah. Boys. Please excuse last chapter's rant (and yeah, the Temple has a Colt .44, 'cause they have no modern tech and whatnot,) and thanks to TheXGrayXLady and PSRose for talkin' some sense into me. XD You guys rock! So, here's a new chapter inspired by a pal o' mine who has insomnia and was talking to me about it, and I was all "Oh mah gracious I'll give Emma a horrible medical condition AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" and it was gonna be awful for her but then it turns out she likes it and ugh. I'm finding it harder and harder to torture that chick. *glares* Anywho, enjoy!**

Insomnia. Chronic, supposedly, though her father had vehemently denied it. The mere fact that she shared his genes annoyed the man, but she knew it was true. She'd found the sleeping pills stored behind the Aspirin. That didn't mean she had tried them, though; they were prescription, and she knew not to mess with drugs of any kind. Besides, she didn't want gunk in her system.

Ironically enough, the sleeplessness got better when she stayed at the Temple. A typical day there meant training, studying and too much work not to collapse the second you reached your room. You trained to near death, rested, and repeated, and this left her body constantly in need of the healing only sleep could bring. And while it had never been horrible, maybe three times a week tops, it had almost disappeared when she got there. Almost being the operative word.

So it was a wide-awake Irish girl that wandered the Temple grounds. Being September, it was just starting to get chilly, though she didn't really mind. Anyway, the jacket that almost never left her was keeping her warm enough, even if she was barefoot. She loved the way everything looked while bathed in moonlight, like she'd stepped into some alternate dimension was everything was pearly and clean. It was no wonder, she mused, why thousands of artists had composed songs and poems and plays and books about night, not to mention the visual arts. No, she didn't mind her insomnia, especially not if it let her experience all this beautiful, quiet marvel.

Not to mention the fact that it let her work. When everyone else was fast asleep, she could slip away and do whatever she wanted, with no fear of getting tired and falling asleep while out. So she'd grab a sketchbook and a pen and head out, finding something to draw that she wouldn't normally see during the day. Sometimes it was the way shadows arranged themselves differently during a waning crescent and a waxing gibbous, or the flash of a nocturnal creature's eyes. (She was very determined to draw a fox, or a raccoon at least.)

_"I forget the last time I felt brave, I just recall insecurity, 'cause it came down like a tidal wave, an' sorrow swept over me,"_ she sang, her voice barely audible. _"When I was given grace and love, I was blind but now I can see, 'cause I've found a new hope from above, an' courage swept over me. It hurts just to wake up, whenever you're wearing thin, alone on the outside, so tired of looking in, the end is uncertain, and I've never been so afraid, but I don't need a telescope to see that there's hope, and that makes me feel brave..."_

But her solace was broken by footsteps. She gasped, ducking into an alcove made by two buildings a little too close to each other. She would be able to jump onto the roof and dart away if need be, but she hoped that whoever was coming wasn't Heylin. That hope, of course, was quickly dashed as she listened to the footsteps. Boots. Not cowboy boots, either, those had a kind of scuffing thud all their own. No, these were almost combat boots, but they sounded like they had thick soles, and something metal clanked with each tentative step. They were certainly too light to be Chase, Hannibal didn't have feet and Wuya didn't wear shoes, so they were out. That left...

"Jack," Emma muttered to herself, annoyed that the self-proclaimed 'evil boy genius' would ruin her beautiful night. She watched his silhouette go by, thankful for the cover that the pitch-black alley gave her. She followed him, her bare feet soundless against the stone. If he knew someone was behind him, he didn't show it, glancing around every now and then but never looking back. He walked, unsurprisingly, into the vault, pausing by the bells that would grant him entrance. The boy raised a hand, about to touch them, and Emma tensed for an attack-then stopped.

Jack's hand ran through his hair, and a haggard sigh escaped the boy. "I gotta find something else to do," he muttered, turning to leave. "This is getting too boring." Emma's eyes widened when she realized that she still stood in the middle of the moonlit courtyard. But Jack had already turned around, and there was no time to do anything else. So she just stood there dumbly, a sketchpad in one hand. Jack saw her, of course. Neither teenager moved for a moment, then Jack spoke. "You're, uh... you're not gonna tell on me, are you?"

"No," Emma said, and found, with surprise, that she meant it. "I mean, you didn't take anything. Why would I?"

"Oh. Well, thanks." They stood still for another moment, or maybe two or three, an awkward silence enveloping the two. Emma glanced at the moon, which didn't seem to have spontaneously combusted in the last three and a half minutes, and then back at Jack. "So... ya wanna come in for some hot cocoa?" she asked. "We could play some Super Smash Bros. Brawl, too."

"Really?" Jack asked, genuinely taken aback at the offer. Emma had never really been mean to him- they traded petty insults like trading cards, but it all chalked up to witty banter anyway, and besides, they were enemies, they were supposed to do that- but this was a surprise. Any of the others would have kicked him out by now, but she just stood there, waiting for a reply. "... Yeah. Yeah, okay, sounds like fun."

A smile crept it's way onto Emma's face. Maybe it was good to share her night every now and then.

**A/N: NO THAT'S NOT SEXUAL WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE GEEZ. They're just friends… and even that's a stretch… -_-' Be nice to Jack, he suffers enough, I'm not gonna make it worse by sticking him with Emma. XD Free puppy to anyone who reviews!**


	16. Metalmouth

Metalmouth

**A/N: To the tune of I Wish by Stevie Wonder. That is all.**

"BRACES?"

"'Fraid so, buddy." Emma winced as Jack slammed his head against one of the steel worktables in his garage. Emma sat cross-legged on said desk, next to some blueprints Jack had been working on. It had been a perfectly normal 'hey-Jack-watcha-doin'-can-I-watch' kind of day until the Irish girl had told him. "Uh, I don't think that's gonna help..."

"I really need to get braces?" he asked weakly.

"Yup. Your 'rents wanted a, uh, friend to break the news to ya, so... here I am," she said, giving him a halfhearted grin and a shrug.

"But still, aren't braces really painful?" the teen asked, rubbing his jaw.

"Well, they said you have an overbite, so, yeah. They get better as time goes by, though." Jack turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "How do you know?" he asked, crossing his arms. Emma shoved her hands into her pockets and shrugged again. "I had an overbite too. I had to get braces when I was twelve."

"But you're fifteen," he said. "Don't braces last, like, five years?"

"What? No! Only two for overbites," Emma replied. "Besides, it'll be fine. It gets better after a while, I promise."

"Still." Jack slumped against the desk, head resting on his crossed arms. Emma frowned, thinking, before she got an idea. "You're looking at it all wrong," she said, hopping off the desk. "And I think I'll show you why braces can be great... in song!"

"Uh-oh," Jack said, eyes going wide. But once Emma was gonna sing, there was no stopping her. A funky beat started up and she leapt back on the desk, striking a pose. "HIT IT!"

"Lookin' back on when I was a little nappy-headed girl/ When my only worry was how my mouth looked to the whole wide world/ 'Cause nobody liked a/ Kid with crazy teeth/ So I got an answer/ At the dentist's, see?

"Goin' into school, well, I knew it'd be a real big pain pain/ 'Specially when I brush my teeth ten times every single day/ Tryin' my best to ignore all the pain inside/ Hopin' it might stop me from cryin' every night!

"I got my bray! Ces! And they really hurt! I got my bray! Ces! And I couldn't flirt! I got my bray! Ces! And they really hurt! I got my bray! Ces! And I couldn't flirt! 'Cause my braces hurt.

"Sister said she's tellin' on me skipping out on wearing bands/ Just don't tell I'll give you everything you can hold in your hands/ Dentist gives me wax to keep my mouth pain-free/ Why won't he just take these stupid things off me?

"Finally, the day comes when I get 'em off/ No more pain for me, oh, no more jeers and scoffs/ Hey, thanks, orthodontist, this has been real fun/ Hey, wait, a retainer? I thought I was done!

"I got my bray! Ces! And they really hurt! I got my bray! Ces! And I couldn't flirt! I got my bray! Ces! And they really hurt! I got my bray! Ces! And I couldn't flirt! 'Cause my braces hurt."

Jack clapped politely, slightly weirded out at the girl's... uh... Emma-ness. She hopped off the desk once more, smiling calmly and brushing some dust off her jacket. "Not to mention, you can get 'em in black and red to go with the rest of your wardrobe," she added.

"I can? Cool!" Jack cried, all apprehension gone. "And, um, thanks."

"Not a prob, Jackster. Anyway, I do believe that I came to challenge you to a rematch?" she asked, holding up a wireless Xbox remote. "Halo Reach waits for no man!"

"You're on, loser," Jack said, racing to his Xbox. "Ready to beg for mercy, O'Reiley?"

"In your dreams, Spicer!" And they spent the rest of the evening playing Xbox, and it was good.

**A/N: A pal and I wrote this song recently for another friend 'cause she was down about getting braces. So I figured, why not publish it here? And I couldn't find a good reason not to. Ergo, story. :) And yeah, Jack an' Emma get to be peeps after the whole 'Night Owls' thing. They hang out and play video games and eat massive amounts of junk food, though Emma is still trying to convince Jack that cosplaying is not necessarily a bad thing. Am I making her too much of a Mary Sue? 'Cause she's got a pretty crappy backstory and she's pals with the Xiaolin **_**and**_** Jack and-  
>Emma: Pals is a bit of a stretch. They mostly tolerate me.<br>Raimundo: Yup.  
>In any case, negative feedback can be just as helpful as positive feedback. Just no flamin', please. Review and get a free nonexistent pass to the movie of your choice! (CHOOSE REAL STEEL. 'S PRETTY EPIC, YO.)<br>Emma: While we're spamming you with word length, we'd like to mention that Runa is going on an indefinite hiatus. Inspiration ain't comin' easy, what with school and all, so it might be a while. Jus' a warnin'. Thanks!**


	17. Christmas Cards And Rugburn

Christmas Cards and Rugburn

**I have a life. I swear. It's just… on hold right now. Yeah, that's it. On hold. C8 *eye twitch* Ahem, anyway, I wrote this in the middle of lunch and decided to post it because, if nothing else, it's kinda funny. Enjoy!**

Emma bit her lip and glared at the object in her lap. It was not the first time she had done so, and it wouldn't be the last, but right now she was particularly exasperated. The object she was so annoyed with was her sketchbook, and she was glaring at a half-finished drawing. She had been working on it and several others like it for over an hour, and while she could usually scribble out something decent in a matter of minutes, this wasn't coming out right. Emma was bad at a lot of things, but art was not one of them, and she clung to that. So it served only to make her madder when she couldn't get it right.

"FRICKA FRACKIN' ZOMBIE SPAWNING -" her sudden string of curses (sort of) was noticed by Kimiko first, because she was the closest to Emma's room. She paused her video game and glanced cautiously in, where Emma was yelling and stamping on something in the wastebasket. "- PRINCESS TROLLESTIA WITH SANTA IN A CAN!"

"Uh, Emma?" Kimiko said, deliberating whether or not to run away. Emma lanced over her shoulder and immediately calmed down. "Oh, hey Kimi," she replied, turning around to wave. She tried to walk to the door, but her foot had caught in the trashcan and she did a magnificent face plant onto her carpet. "AAAGHHH! FACE RUGBURN! OWOWOWOWOW!" Kimiko winced and rushed over to help the Irish girl, who was clutching her now red face.

"Bad day?" Kimiko asked, giving a weak chuckle. Emma glared out from behind her fingers, but sighed and nodded. "I thought so. Hey, by the way, what were you attacking in there?' she asked, motioning to the trashcan.

"Oh, that? I was trying to make everybody Christmas cards but none of them were coming out the way I wanted them to. And since this is my first holiday with you guys, I wanted to really make 'em special. But my hands weren't making the picture in my head come out right." She sighed and tugged the wastebasket off of her foot.

"Oh, it can't be that bad. You're a great artist, Emma! I'm sure you'll think of something," Kimiko said, patting her friend's shoulder. Emma returned it with a grateful smile and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess so. Thanks, Kim-chan."

"No problem, Em-chan," Kimiko replied, trying to suppress a grin. "Just take a break and come back to it later, okay? You're always talking about artistic mojo and stuff- maybe yours just needs a chance to recharge."

Emma giggled. "Yeah, sure! I'll just have some nice, homemade chocolate milk and-"

"NO."

"But-"

"En. Oh. We both know how you get around chocolate."

"Aw, c'mon!"

"No."

"Slag. Fine, fine, I'll just have some of that TruMoo junk."

"There we go!"

**Emma: GIVE ME MAH MILK, WOMAN.  
>NEVAR.<br>Emma: EMMA SMASH!  
>Oh, hush. R&amp;R!<strong>


	18. Eye Of the Beholder

Look So Tired

**A/N: Spade here! I know, I know, it's been forever. Sorry! I've been crazy busy with school and family lately (drama big time) so I've barely gotten a chance to sit down and write. Here we see Emma being bipolar-ish and Clay being supportive. And confused, heheh. BTW, the guy isn't Jack. I hope this helps make up for my absence! **

Clay found Emma sitting in the library, surrounded by scrolls. Candles flickered on the floor around her, wax melting onto the floor. The fire lit up her glasses and hid her brown-green eyes, and her expression was one of immense concentration. It was later than she usually stayed up to read (because she found studying magic much more interesting than studying math,) which had piqued his curiosity. As random as Emma was, she almost always went to bed at the same time every night, unless her insomnia was acting up. Odd thing was, she hadn't mentioned being down there to anyone, and she usually said where she was going before an all-nighter.

"Hey, Em. Watcha up to?" The question pulled the girl from her scrolls, and she looked up at Clay. She smiled, more tiredly than usual, and patted the ground next to her. Clay took a seat, peering over to see what she was reading.

"Healin' spells, huh? That's new. Ah thought you were learnin' more offense spells."

"I was," she replied, removing her glasses. "But then I saw something about needing to know a portion of healing before attacking. Ying-yang an' balance an' all that." Clay nodded and was about to reply, but she continued, staring at her reflection in her glasses. "Thing is, I looked over a couple healing scrolls and was surprised at the more advanced stuff there. Stuff that I could maybe do before long."

"Where're you goin' with this?" Clay asked, raising an eyebrow. It wasn't like Emma to take such an interest in helping others.

"Look here. Chart 7, row 5." She handed him a particularly faded scroll and he squinted to read it in the candlelight. There were several diagrams of eyes and hands, the hands making passes over an injured set of eyes that, by the last panel, had healed. Chart 7 had a picture of a normal eye, and underneath it read, 'The human eye can be fixed by magic if damaged, even if the damage would otherwise be permanent. Eyes cannot be grown back, however.' Row 5 in the text part said, 'If a condition existed previously, even since birth, it could be magically healed. If a magic-user's eyes have been wounded or otherwise damaged from an early age, they could heal themselves with the correct application of magic and concentration.'

Clay read over both several times, and then a few other parts just to make sure he understood. Then he turned to Emma, whose glasses were still in her hands. "So, you mean t' say that…"

"I could fix myself." She turned to Clay. "I could fix… everything. There's other stuff, more advanced stuff but I'll be at the right level soon enough. I could fix my eyes, my hair, my skin. There's even something- Persone Perfectus- it makes you perfect. Not forever, but take enough doses and… point is, I could be better. I could- I could be pretty like Kimiko or Katnappe. I wouldn't have to be this. I wouldn't have to be _me_."

Clay took her glasses from her hands. "Yeah," he began slowly, choosing his words carefully, "Ah suppose ya could. But then maybe ya wouldn't be you. True, ya might be th' same on th' inside, but then again, maybe not. Magic's weird that way. An' we'd miss ya somethin' fierce. Well, Ah would, anyway." Maybe it was just a trick of the candlelight, but Clay swore he saw Emma's face go red. "Besides, Ah like yer glasses. They're cute." Now he was pretty sure it wasn't candlelight. He chuckled and handed them back to the Irish girl, who put them back on and muttered something about not wanting contacts anyway.

"I don't… pardon me if I have trouble believing that," she said, looking up to meet his eyes. He was slightly startled at the green that had been mixed in with the brown. Behind her barely-too-long bangs and crooked glasses, he hadn't figured her eyes were anything but brown. The green wasn't bright, though, just barely noticeable in the firelight. "I know I'm not pretty. I've seen pretty girls, and I'm not one."

"Beauty's in th' eye of th' beholder," Clay retorted, leaning back against the shelves.

Emma scoffed. "Then I have yet to find the right beholder."

"What makes ya wanna be like them quote-unquote pretty girls anyway?" Clay asked gently, tilting his head. Emma drew her knees to her chest and placed her chin inside them, so only her eyes were visible. Her words were audible, though, if a bit muffled.

"There's this guy. I like 'im, an' I've liked 'im ever since I met 'im. The girl he likes, er, well, the one I think he likes, she's not like me. I'm- I'm not like the glitter girls that he's into. That pretty much all guys are into. I'm different. I'm gritty and temperamental and loud. They're dainty and cutesy and can totally rock skirts and form-fitting stuff. It's hard to wear clothes that show off your figure when don't have one." She shook her head. "Ugh. Sorry. I should be venting to Kim, not you. I can't imagine this is very fun for either of us."

"Well, naw, it ain't," Clay admitted. Emma sighed and he put a hand on her shoulder. "But, y'know, not all fellas like them, what'd ya call 'em, glitter girls. Some of us appreciate a tomboy. Girly girls might be easier on th' eyes, sure, but when th' goin' gets tough, guys need a girl they can count on. An' that don't mean a girl who's gonna freak out if she breaks a nail." Emma giggled and Clay smiled, glad to have lightened the mood. "Cheer up, Em. Not every fella's th' same. An' besides, Ah think yer great jus' th' way ya are!"

"You know what? You're right. Maybe I don't need fixing," she said, nodding. "Maybe I should just tell him how I feel."

"That's th' spirit! Ya just gotta- wait, what?" Emma ignored (or, more likely, just didn't notice) the surprised look on Clay's face and nodded vigorously. "Yeah! I need to tell him that I like him, and if he doesn't like me for me, then that's his loss!"

Clay grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. "Well, gee, Em, that's mighty-"

"In fact, I'm gonna go call him right now!" She stood and dashed out of the library. Clay sat there, frozen in a mixture of confusion and shock, when Emma poked her head back in the room. "By the way, thanks for the advice. You're a sweet guy, Clay!" And with that, she was gone again.

"Uh… yer welcome," he called a few moments after the initial surprise wore off. He scratched his head and frowned. "Shoot. Ah thought… shoot."

**The guy she's talking about is someone she had a crush on from her old school. XD He'll be mentioned, and maybe even featured, later on. In the meantime, stay tuned, and please check out my poll! Runa's givin' me a headache!**


	19. Broken Hearts and Broken Phones

**A/N: Okay, so that last chapter was fun. XD Everybody's either shocked that Emma wasn't **_**entirely**_** head-over-heels for Clay to begin with (though that happened quickly enough) or wants to know who the other guy is. Well, I've seen fit to accommodate. Let's meet the first boy to steal the heart of everybody's favorite freak! This is set the day after the last chapter. (Also, yes, Sharky Shark**_** is**_** the name of her pillow pet.) Enjoy!  
>P.S. If you know me IRL, you ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SPEAK OF THIS. Either you know why or you'll figure it out. And the names- well, okay, kind of the guy's last one, but not his first- have ABSOLUTLEY NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING. Either way, NO SPEAKY!<strong>

"Hey! What a coincidence, I have something I gotta tell you! Haha, I know, right? It's fine, you can go ahead. No, no, you first, really." Omi paused. He had been heading to the obstacle course when he had passed Emma's room and heard her voice. It sounded as though Emma was talking to someone in her room, but he hadn't heard anyone else talking. He peered in the door and was surprised at what she saw. Emma was pacing back and forth, not quick like normal, but a bit slower. Her eyes darted back and forth and her hand was clamped to her ear. Perhaps she was hurt and delirious? But then he saw what she was holding and realized that she was doing what Kimiko so frequently did- talking on her, uh… what was it again? Cell something. Cell foam? Yes, that sounded about right.

"Well, no, I was gonna call you last night, but with the time differences and all… no, it's fine, you go first. Okay. Uh-huh. Which one? Oh, the cheerleader. Yeah, I know her." She suddenly stopped pacing, her tone growing cold. "What about her?" A pause, and she opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded strangled. "No, I'm here. N-no, that's great! I'm so happy for you two." Then he heard a faint voice on the other end, one that sounded deeper than Emma's.

"Heh, sorry, the party was getting pretty loud. I stepped out for a moment. Anyway, you said you wanted to tell me something?" It was definitely male, and Omi watched in confusion as Emma's face went red.

"_No!_ I mean, uh, no, nope. Just that, uh, I… I…"

"You what?" The voice sounded very kind. Omi wondered why this person was distressing Emma so.

"I, um, I… saw that movie you were talking about. It was really good," she added weakly. "I especially liked- part with- when he- in the-"

"Emma? Emma, hello? I think we're breaking up," the person on the other end said.

"Call- back- late-." She hung up, staring at the tiny screen of the banged-up red machine. Then, with a furious shriek, she hurled it at the wall. Surprisingly, it didn't shatter, but left a dent in the wall and fell to the floor. Omi backed up a bit, not wanting to be caught when Emma seemed so angry. She stood still for a moment, whole body shaking with anger. Her fists were clenched, her head was bowed so that her bangs covered her eyes and her expression (or what Omi could see of it) was one of shocked fury. Then she threw herself onto her pallet and started crying. Omi backed up some more, closed the door silently behind him and went off to find the others.

"So she's crying?" Raimundo asked as Omi finished his story.

"Yes. Whatever her cell foam told her, it must have made her very upset," Omi replied, nodding.

"No kidding. Emma only cries- actually, she never cries," Kimiko agreed. "I wonder what's up?"

"Maybe we should go talk to 'er," Clay said, standing. By the time Omi had finished talking, he had realized who the other person was and what had happened. "Ah think Ah know what's goin' on."

"What is it?" everyone else asked in unison.

"It's… ah… boy trouble." Kimiko's eyes widened, and she bolted up.

"You three stay out of this," she said, pointing at each of the boys. "More guys will only make it worse. Emma needs girl time right now and I expect you all to _stay out of it._ Understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am," they said, suddenly remembering why exactly Kimiko was the Dragon of Fire. She darted off, leaving them to stand in the kitchen by themselves. "So… that means they get out of training?" Raimundo asked after a pause. They traded glances and he sighed. "Aw, man."

"Emma?" Kimiko asked, peering into her room. Emma lay facedown on her mat, arms at her sides. Her face was buried in her pillow (which was actually a shark Pillow Pet,) but Kimiko could tell she had been crying. She closed the door and walked over, sitting beside Emma. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Go 'way," Emma muttered, unmoving. Kimiko sighed. This was going to be harder than she thought.

"Come on, Emma. Talking about it will make you feel better. It always helped me when I vented to Keiko." Emma sighed and said something that sounded like a mix of Spanish and Gaelic, and then rolled over. Her face was red and her eyes were puffy from crying. Her glasses had made marks on her nose where they had rubbed too hard when she was facedown.

"Boys are stupid," she said. Kimiko nodded and remained silent, letting Emma collect her thoughts. "Last night Clay- who is now officially the _nicest_ guy on the planet- an' I talked about some spells I found. They could fix my eyes and make me pretty and stuff, but he said I should stay the way I am. I had been interested in the spells because of this guy I like. Well, it was real sweet of Clay to say so, so I decided to call the other guy and tell him how I felt, but I waited until morning and yadda yadda yadda."

"And?" Kimiko asked, eyeing the dent in the wall right above Emma's old cell phone.

"There's this stupid mean pretty girl who's captain of the cheer team and homecoming queen forever that's been mean to me since kindergarten and now she's seduced the guy I like." Silence. Kimiko mentally winced; that had never happened to her exactly, but maybe that was because she hadn't dated much before coming to the Temple. Well, that, or because she went to an elite private school, which had surprisingly crappy cafeteria food. Either way, she wasn't entirely sure she could relate.

"Uh."

"Yeah." And with that, Emma rolled back onto her face and said something in German that sounded suspiciously like a string of curses. Kimiko began to question what she was saying and how she knew so many random languages.

"Well, he's, uh, very… very wrong to, um, choose her over you, and…"

"You can stop. I know it's awkward for everyone involved."

"A little, yeah."

Emma rolled over to face the wall, so that she wasn't facing Kimiko, but at least her words weren't muffled by Sharky Shark's 'fur'. "It's just that I've liked him for a long time and I _have_ tried to tell him, honestly. It's just that when it comes to romance, he can be kind of…"

"Oblivious?" Kimiko monotoned, thinking of someone else.

"Yuh-huh. So it's kind of a crushing blow to hear that he's dating this girl who's always been so nasty to me. Part of me is arguing that I'm being stupid and that I should've let go a long time ago. The rest is screaming to fight for him. But I've seen the way that he looked at her, and now that they- now- I-" she took a shaky breath before continuing. "I just never wanted to miss him this much."

Kimiko paused. It was odd to see Emma in such a state. She could be a real drama queen at times, yes, and everybody had reason to doubt her sanity, but this was just sad. Maybe she just needed some… what was the word? Closure? Maybe. "What are their names?"

"The girl is Allison Osbourne, and the guy is Abner McQueen." Kimiko nodded. "Abner's a real nice guy, so I was always confused as to why he liked her. He was one of the only popular kids that was ever nice to me, 'cause he was a geek too, just on the inside. So we hung out and stuff, and sometimes he sat with me during lunch, and it was great, but he liked her. Liked her liked her. He always has, and he never even notices when she's mean to me. So I guess it's no surprise he asked her out, and less of a surprise that she said yes. He's very handsome."

"Ah. Well. Yeah, that, ah… that stinks for you."

"Yep."

"… Wanna go get some ice cream?"

"Can we get Graeters?"

"I don't see why not."

"Okay." Emma sat up and rubbed her eyes, then took a deep breath. It was a little shaky but she tried again and it evened out. "Okay. Thanks, Kimiko. You're a good friend." Kimiko smiled and patted her on the back.

"Not a problem. Now, c'mon, let's go cheer you up!" Emma smiled and stood, and headed out the door with Kimiko.

"So, we will be using the boy as well?"

"Perhaps. It is strange, though…"

"What is strange?"

"I could have sworn she had feelings for the blond one. This is… unforeseen. Go get my seer. The future is on it's way, and I plan to be the first to meet it."


	20. Trade Mistakes

Trade Mistakes

_The third time's the charmer, they say._

_- Ingrid Michaelson_

She sometimes wished she were human again. Not out loud, of course, and certainly not around any of her fellow Heylin. Especially Chase; he could read her like a book. Which irked her, and he knew that too. So she never wished, or at least not around him. But on days like today, it was so easy to remember. The memories she kept carefully hidden would suddenly burst from their dam and wash over her, and on the outside she would look down on all mankind. On the inside, however, she mourned her lost humanity.

She had lied when the told the Dragon of the Wind that she had watched them crawl out of the mud. Truly, she didn't know how humans had started out, though she had an inkling. She was once like them, made of a special kind of magic. She was real flesh and real blood, and she felt love and joy and hope. But she also felt pain. It was the pain that pushed her to the edge. It was her own choice to jump off.

No, she didn't regret it. The power was delicious and beautiful, unlike any she'd ever known. Yes, the power was worth it. She could fly, she could bring stone to life, she could do anything she wanted. If all it meant was trading in her heart and her lifespan, she would do so gladly. No heart meant no pain, and immortality seemed like a dream come true.

As it happened, it wasn't as simple as that. There is no such thing as immortality. She knew that. Many had tried, and all had failed, but a few had managed to imitate. Magic kept you alive for much longer than your due, as it had Chase and Guan. Chase's Lao Mang Long would expand his life for thousands of years, if none of those pesky Dragons ever grew a spine and decided to kill him. The witch they had recently acquired might, though- she was incredibly unstable, even if she wasn't incredibly powerful- so a watchful eye was necessary. Still, even Guan's brief stint as Xiaolin Dragon of Earth (before the elements had remanifested themselves,) had granted him longevity, though perhaps not to the extent Chase's stretched.

As for the no heart business, that wasn't entirely true either. Even as a witch, experienced and wise from over a hundred years sowing evil and reaping what grew, he still felt. Perhaps not as acutely as when she was a human, but enough. She was no stranger to pain and anger, but Chase sparked more than jealousy. If only he would reciprocate. She had, after all, sold her soul because of him. Well, that wasn't entirely true; it was because of someone like him. She hadn't known Chase when the offer was made. The offer had been made to a young woman hopeless, on her own and a few hours away from death by starvation. As her lungs began to fill with fluid, she looked up at the dark shape in the sky and said yes. Then- no. That was one secret she would keep locked away. No amount of remembering was going to draw it out, no matter what.

Yes, she sometimes wished she was human again. When the sky was gray with the promise of rain, (amazing how so many foolish, ignorant humans hated the very rain that gave them life,) and the wind reminded her of the sea, she would take a moment to reminisce. But a moment was all she could afford these days. Looking for the love that had evaded her as a human kept her busy when she wasn't helping Chase, after all. Time was so short, even in the long life that was now hers. It hurt to have to ask…

… was a long life spent alone better than a short one filled with love?

**A/N: Eeek! My twentieth chapter! And about a certain someone that many on this site seem to dislike. Interesting. Anywho, shootin' for thirthy-three reviews before my next update! A bit ambitious, I know, but a girl's gotta try! Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and/or favorited, and for your continuing support. Y'all rock! Leave a review on your way out and get a free virtual cookie. ;)**


	21. Jacket

Jacket

**A/N: 34 reviews! 34! Eek! You guys blow me away! And that deserves a response, don't cha think?  
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**Xiaolin Fan: Thanks a million! This fast enough?  
><strong>**TheXGrayXLady: I know, right? Wuya was always one of my favorite characters. I tried to leave it neutral, but yeah, it was Chuya to me. :D Aw, thanks!  
><strong>**crazychick14: Yay! Another person who likes Emma! :D Haha, no, it isn't weird. I have to do that all the time, especially with i-before-e words. XP  
><strong>**flowerpower71: Sounds good to me! Actually, the pun made me giggle. :D I plan on doing an official Chuya oneshot soon. Whaddaya think?**

**Anyway, hope you guys like this one! Some more Emma/Omi family-ness. And on a side note, I totally have the Iron Man shirt. XD Enjoy!**

Emma held her breath and bent in half, peering through the small, round door for the umpteenth time in less than an hour. Her red headphones made the hair that normally blocked her ears stick out, and she hadn't moved since she'd gotten to her spot. That spot was in the laundry room at the Temple, which, (thankfully,) had acquired a few modern amenities. Meaning a washer and dryer. And so what if they had been Christmas gifts from the kids to the elder monks? Nothing stopping said kids from using the machines to duck out of chores. They were shooting for a dishwasher on Master Fung's birthday.

However, Emma wasn't ducking out of chores at the moment. She was sitting on top of the washing machine, eyes trained on the objects tumbling around inside. In place of her normal thunderbolt shirt and army-green jeans, she wore an Iron Man t-shirt that read _My Boyfriend's Abs Are Made Of Steel_ and black athletic shorts. Her shoes, too, were missing, but she wore nothing else to keep her feet warm. She hummed along absentmindedly to Party In The CIA (**copyright Weird Al**) as the washing machine whirred quietly. Just then, Omi stuck his head in the door.

"Emma? May I enter?" Emma paused her music, hung her headphones around her neck and smiled at the boy. "Sure thing, O! C'mon up." She scooted over and let Omi climb up beside her.

"I apologize once again for making that delicious, yet treacherous dairy product attack you," Omi said, bowing his head solemnly. "Had I not foolishly listened to Raimundo, you would not have to wash your hair and clothes."

Emma chuckled and rubbed his head. "Aw, it's okay, Omi. It's not your fault; you didn't know not to squeeze the yogurt cup. Or to point it towards me. I'll get Raimundo back for it later, so no worries. (Though I doubt I'll be able to smell yogurt ever again without feeling sick.) But that ol' jacket of mine needed a wash anyways, so, y'know, all's well that ends well. Yogurt comes outta clothes easy, from what I hear."

Omi tilted his head. "Why do you wear that particular jacket so often? Kimiko has an array of clothes, and yet you wear only one kind, like Raimundo and Clay and I."

Emma shrugged. "Oh, jeez, I dunno. I like jackets in the first place; they're nice and versatile, easy to slip on and off, unlike hoodies, and you can tie them around your waist when you're hot and zip 'em up when you're cold and pull up the hood when you wanna pretend to be Batman. But as to why I wear that particular jacket, well, that's another story entirely. We got time, though, so I'll tell ya if ya wanna listen." Omi nodded and Emma held back another chuckle, then nodded as well. "Alrighty, then. Oh, let's see, where do I start… ah. Okay, I got it." She sat up straight and fixed her glasses and mostly gathered an air of storytelling about her, as she always did when about to tell someone something that was mostly truth and a little lie, but that's what made her stories good. Omi crossed his legs and sat up, ready to listen.

"When I was a young'un- oh, listen to me, I'm such a hick- probably around 9 or 10, that is, I went to see Wicked. It was the second play I'd ever seen in real life, the first one being Cats. It's a fantastic play, by the by, remind me to treat you sometime. Well, Wicked was great. It was the first thing in which I saw somebody I could really identify with. And that somebody was Elphaba."

"Elphaba?"

"Oh, right, you don't- well, Elphaba is the name of the eventual, quote-unquote 'Wicked Witch of the West.' Basically, a real nice, book-smart girl who was made fun of and rejected just because she had green skin. Now, personally, if I saw somebody with green skin, I'd go right up and start a conversation, 'cause I think it'd be real neat, but… anywho. Well, Elphaba an' me, we're a lot alike. Nobody likes us because of how we look or act or both, and nobody's willing to get to know us to find out whether or not we're what everybody thinks we are.

"See, thing is, I liked the play so much that at the end I was draggin' my parents over to the merchandise stands to get something. They went ahead and got the soundtrack, but what I wanted was one of the hoodies. Now, those only came in adult sizes, mind you, and I was small for my age. But I didn't care. I felt inside me that a Wicked jacket would be just what I needed later on. Couldn't tell how I knew, but I did.

"Turns out, I was right! I grew into the jacket, though it's still a tad big, which is fine with me, of course, but I've worn it every day since. I guess it's just a bit of a personal reminder to keep on going, because someday I'll get to where I'm goin', and even if I end up somewhere I didn't think I would, so be it. Better to end up wicked than ending up as nothing at all."

Omi nodded, slowly this time. "So, you got your jacket because you felt that you and this Elphaba person could relate. That is an interesting reason for purchasing clothing, I must admit. Whenever I go to a mall with the others, Kimiko wants something because it's 'cute.' I am not sure what this means, but I do not think you chose clothes for the same reason. Am I right?"

Emma gave him that crooked grin of hers. "You are indeed, O. I get stuff because I think it reflects me as a person, not necessarily because of how it would look on me. For instance, I've got a shirt with the Hufflepuff crest on it, a Batman fake letterman jacket for when my normal jacket is in the wash, and a spare pair of Converse, Riddler ones. Have I ever told you about the Riddler?" Omi shook his head. He was pretty sure he knew who Batman was, but everything else eluded him. "I haven't? Jiminy Christmas, how else are you supposed to know about the wonders of the DC Universe? C'mon, Omi, I'm gonna teach you about vigilantism and why it rocks." And with that, she dropped off the washing machine and headed towards her room, Omi close behind.

**Luls. This was mostly written because I want to point out that yes, Emma does have other clothes, she just never wears them. Also, quick question. In my little Emmaverse, (the XS Universe that has Emma,) Kimiko and Emma get their own rooms because they're girls. So Kimiko now has a space for all her outfits and wigs, seeing as how in the original series she had the three-by-five room. But prior to this, I have to ask; where did she keep all her stuff? I'd love to know what you guys think. My personal opinion is an underground closet lair. *****nods knowingly* Please review!**


	22. Chance meets Chase

Chance meets Chase

**A/N: Heyo! Thanks to everybody for the solid reviews! Here's some feedback for you awesome people! Nicknames because I do be bored. 8D  
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**Xiaolin: Glad Emma cracks you up! *hands tape* This should help with that.  
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**flower power: You think so, eh? Then I will! Yay! I inspire people! *happy dance*  
>Emma: AAAGHHH! IN THE NAME OF ALL THINGS GOOD AND VOLATILE, MAKE IT END!<br>**

**Gray Lady: Washing machines are fun to sit and sing on. Your voice goes all warbly. :D And no worries, I'm in the middle of finishing our trade, lol. It shall be GLORIOUS! Hopefully.  
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**Icies: Lol, glad you liked the Chuya. I've been reading over my earlier stuff and kept thinking that it was really Emma-centric. I keep making her more of a Mary Sue than I want. :\ Trust me, I don't think you're mean (though I kept wincing as I read it, XD) and I really appreciate the feedback. Just one thing I would like to mention: these aren't supposed to actually be decent. They're just little oneshots I come up with at lunch and spam people with. But I'm still really happy for all the constructive criticism, so thanks! :D**

**This was requested by Coralline Slayer, so for anyone who's read Runa, you'll know what's going on. If not, just go with it. And I was off my meds when I wrote this (which is rare when I'm writing.) Should be funny!**

Chance Young was displeased. Actually, that was an understatement. He was really, really PO'd. Why, you may ask? That's a good question. And the equally good answer is that he was currently in the same room as Chase Young. Now, Chance had never actually met Chase before, but he had been confused with the man enough to hate him. Now he was staring daggers at Chase, who simply looked annoyed and confused. The room they were in was relatively small, probably the size of an average living room. There was a tinted window, but other than that, neither man could see any way out of it.

"Hey, fellas!" an irritating and all-too-familiar voice chirped. Chase and Chance turned to the window. A light turned on behind it and they could see Emma grinning broadly.

"YOU!" Chance yelled furiously. "What have you done? Why am I here? How did you even get me here? Why is he here? What is your ulterior motive?"

"Calm down, Sparkles. Lissen, Raimundo an' me had a bet. I said that being trapped in a small space for an indefinite period of time would help you overcome your differences! He said that I needed to take my medicine. So with a whole five and a half bucks on the line, we decided to try it out!"

"Just for the record, I had no part in this," Raimundo called from somewhere beyond the window.

"Did so. But to answer Edward's questions in order; I've kidnapped you, to give you anger management, well-placed knockout gas and underhanded bribery, to help you two be besties, and to get five fifty!" Chance opened and closed his mouth, but couldn't speak due to the suffocating weirdness coming from Emma's face.

"Right. And… who is he again?" Chase asked, raising an eyebrow. Chance shrieked like a little girl and tackled Chase, who retaliated. Emma watched the tussle, munching happily on a candy bar. "I think it's working," she said, glancing at the chair next to her. "What do you think?" Because the chair was an inanimate object, she got no reply. Emma laughed anyway and turned back to the fight, grinning. "Oh, chair, you are _so_ random!"

"So, have I won my five and a half bucks yet?" Raimundo asked, walking into the room with all his magnificent Brazillian swagocity. "Or as we say in Rio de Robert Deniro, QUE HORA ES?"

"Oh, Raimundo, you're so fantastic and Brazillian!" Kimiko squealed, also jumping into the room and ruining all the Chasekimmer's dreams. "Now let's go be OOC and make out somewhere so Emma can be a Mary Sue!"

"MY NAME ISN'T EMMA!" Emma screamed, standing and pulling off her jacket all sexily. "MY NAME IS EBONY DARK'NESS DEMENTIA RAVEN WAY, AND I AM THE CHOSEN ONE!" Then Chance and Chase stopped fighting to marvel at her pure, totally adulterated gorgeousness. Then Clay ate a pizza and Ebony/Emma went to kill Voldemort.

* * *

><p>Chance bolted up, screaming. He looked around, eyes wide, until he realized that he was all alone in his big fancy bedroom that was not currently occupied by Twilight fangirls. HE sighed and ran a hand through his hair, sweat glistening on his ivory skin. "So… it was… just… a dream…" he whispered, in a voice that could turn the most conservative Republican stark raving gay. "What a… relief…" Then a ray of sunlight came in through his imported Gothic windows from Greece and Italy and France The second it touched his alabaster-ivory conglomerate skin, he began to sparkle like the teeth of that guy on the Dos Equis commercials. His glittering visage filled the void that once coated the room. As he glowed, females and males from all the corners of the Twilight fandom rushed in, eager to kidnap and rape him. He did not panic, however, for he knew that at least his end would come at the hands of those who loved him most.<p>

* * *

><p>"OH NO I'M GOOD-LOOKIIIIIINNNNGGG!" Emma bolted up, screaming. Except she was screaming with hotness because she's a Mary Sue. And hot. She was wearing a corset and a miniskirt and platform pumps with spikes and skulls, and her black hair with blonde highlights and purple streaks and red polka dots and a picture of a kitten cascaded down her shoulders and made her look even more gorgeous. Then all the male characters from Xiaolin Showdown, Naruto and a few Calvin Klein models busted in and started proposing marriage to her. "No," she sighed, "I cannot love you all, for my beauty if but a curse. Yea, verily, as doth twine the strands of fate ever-closer to my heart and the hearts of all the world, thine is a fleeting memory of a midsummer's night dream." And all the hot boys cried because of her sexiness.<p>

* * *

><p>Yoda opened his eyes. "Sense a disturbance in the force, I do," he croaked, raising one green alien hand. "Author being lazy is. A push down a long flight of stairs needs she."<p>

* * *

><p>Kimiko wrinkled her nose. "That's the worst fanfiction I've ever read."<p>

"What? B-but I worked so hard on it!" Jack said, whimpering. "I thought it was really good."

"Well, it's not. That is the_ last_ time I beta for you. Try and write something with, I dunno, more of a plot." Kimiko stood and left, and Jack climbed back into the computer chair. He tapped his chin with all the thoughtfulness of Darth Vader trying to figure out who he was related to and therefore who he could hit on.

"A plot, eh…?" He shook his head. "Nonsense. Plots are for n00bs."

**So… yeah. This is what happens when I write with no medication at two in the morning while doped up on Dairy Queen.**** Anyway, I also uploaded an actual chapter because I know this is bad, even for me. XD ONWARDS!**


	23. Losses

Losses (Apocalypse)

A kingdom for a stage. She thought of water boiling at her hands and shook her head. No. No. Mustn't get angry. Else she would be a cask with no soul, as so many around her had become, but she remembered the water. The water and the wind and the earth. She had once been bright, had once been light and creation and beauty. She had been unbroken, once. They all had. But now no more. Now she was corpse and cadaver and sputtering, guttering embers. The wind no longer sang her name, the water no longer laughed as it ran by and the earth was cold and unfriendly.

She had to close her eyes to block out the sights and smells and sounds, all unfriendly s words that whispered of serpents and snakes. The air was bitter and tinged with the smell of ash. The stone around her ran with the blood of the infected, turned an inky black by rot and decay. Her hands were dank and filthy from the mud as well, but now with the everlasting fog, everything was muddy and wet. She could no longer remember sunshine.

_It was not dying; everybody died._

Water had been the first to fall. So sweet and young and impressionable. He still thought that he could help them. He could not. No one could, not their teachers or mentors, and then he fell. It had been so inconsequential, just a scratch. Just a scratch. But they had swarmed and he hadn't had a chance. What was one to do when the sharkmen were tearing their friend to pieces in front of them? It was too late to help him; once the infected smelled blood they became unstoppable. Not even the elements could hold them back. Nothing could. His screams haunted their sleep for years to come. No matter how many dreams the visions repeated themselves, no matter who it was attacking water, ripping him to shreds, the screams were the same. And they were always worse.

_We died on the wrong page of the almanac._

Earth had been the second. As soon as water was gone, they knew, they knew that they were no longer untouchable. One week after water was taken Earth had looked at fire and wind. The compassion in his eyes was still there, but the hope was not. Water had carried their hope for them, and he was no more. So earth had turned to them and told them that if the infected struck again, they would have to run. They would have to get to safety, and if all hope was truly lost, as was water, then he would hold them back. Wind and fire could run while he kept the infected away. So they had. The infected had come again, swarming this time, a horde of teeth and claws and death. He had nodded, and they had known. By the time they had gotten out of the mob's range, they were too far away to hear him scream. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe he had just accepted death with a simple, silent finality. He was tough, he could hack it, maybe he had survived. (But they knew he hadn't.) The silence replaced the screams whenever they shut their eyes, but it was somehow infinitely worse.

_We blazed up on the lines we never saw._

Then wind. Her beloved, carefree, reckless wind. How could he die? He was her Apollo, her shining star. He was untouchable. Maybe water could die, maybe earth could be killed, but they were not wind. Wind was too fast, too strong, too clever. Wind wouldn't die. And how could he? How could he let himself be pulled from the sky, silenced by the sheer weight of bodies piling on his own? They had been headed up. Up a mountain, somewhere the sharp-toothed demons couldn't go. For all their ferocity, they lacked dexterity. He had sent one last great burst of air, sending her flying. Flying up, up and away from the infected. A cliff ledge had saved her, and from there she had scrambled up until she had found a cave. Yes, a cave filled with mud and as shrouded by mist as everything else, but a safe haven for the time being. And if she was to die here, at least she would die clean.

Deep breath. Feel what fire was left. From candles to volcanoes. All of it connected. All of it clean and pure. Fire was not polluted like water or wind, not mangled like earth. Fire? Fire was untouchable. Untouchable to all save her. She could touch it, control it, bring it to life or snuff it out. She walked to the edge of the cave and breathed in the smog. It was far past time to finish this. Channeling her element through her through her veins, she let the fire consume her, body and soul. She was fire fire was her she was

And then oblivion. White-hot, searing, blissful oblivion. It was everything. It was nothing. It was fantastic. Rising higher and higher fire and fire until she cleared the atmosphere but just kept burning. Farther out, travelling faster than sound and light and sense to find the fallen one. She felt the primordial gases still mingling where life had once lay, and knew she could fix it. There would be a price. But there was always a price. And now the deaths of the others could mean something. The losses might not be so terrible after all. And so she did what she had to. She was heroine, and heroines do what they have to, no matter what the cost or the loss. She knew that. She knows.

_It was not dying -no, not ever dying; _

_But the night I died I dreamed that I was dead, _

_And the cities said to me: 'Why are you dying? _

_We are satisfied, if you are; but why did I die?'_

**A/N: Bonus points if you can name what happened before the story and what she did at the end. I love Losses and have wanted to use it for quite some time now, and may use it again. Thanks for all your support!**


	24. Losses 2

Losses 2 (Rainstorm)

**A/N: So I've decided to do a five-part thing with the whole 'Losses' concept. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. This one has a happy ending and is not AU. The next one will not and is. Read on.**

It's raining. Of course it's raining. Why wouldn't it be? He's only lost the three people that matter most to him. His best friends, his confidantes, his brothers and sister. They have been taken from him, cruelly, unjustly and without reason. And no matter how hard he tries, he cannot get them back. So it rains.

The rain is not gentle, either. It is cold and sharp, a flurry of icy needles that jab at him as he trudges forward. Each stab is one more thing he could have said, could have done, to save them. The one time they needed him, he failed. The world didn't need him. The Temple didn't need him. Three people. Just. Three. People. And he couldn't even save them. It is dark, it is cold, and it is raining.

_It was not dying: we had died before _

He didn't stay at the Temple. He refused to stay there. He had failed as a warrior and as a friend, and that failure was more than enough reason to leave. Some of the elders, the ones that had raised him and known him best, had asked him to stay. He hadn't even bothered to reply; he had gotten what few things he owned, one thing from the rooms of the lost, and left. The sky had been dark ever since he had failed, but it came to a boil as he walked down those steps for the last time. And then it had begun to rain.

Now he is going to say goodbye to them. He slogs through the mud and makes his way to the burial ground. The earth is soft beneath his feet, now heavy with the knowledge of what he is going to do. Finally, the dirt path gives way to stone. Stairs that wind up and up and up the mountainside, made of stone from quarries that have long been dead. The rain washes enough of the mud from his shoes to keep the stone relatively clean, and he makes sure to leave as few footprints as possible. It is funny, the things one notices when loss is greatest.

_Scattered on mountains fifty miles away;_

When he reaches the cemetery, he passes under a torii. It is simple, painted red and faded with age, but still strong. He rests a hand on it's wood, worn smooth from a thousand other hands looking to it for support. He continues on, backpack growing heavier with all his doubts and pain. When he reaches the grave markers, someone else is already there. A red-headed man in his early twenties, wearing a long black overcoat and yellow goggles with spirals on them. The man glances back as he enters the little area, and gives a smile.

"Hey." He gives no reply, but the man continues to talk. "Ten years and they never stopped, huh? Not even when they knew what was gonna happen. But that's how they always were." The man gives him a sideways glance, with a sort of smile. "That's how you always were, too."

He sighs and shakes his head. "No. Not when it mattered most." The man grins again, crookedly, but with sadness buried somewhere in there.

"It's not your fault, if that's what you're thinking."

_Diving on haystacks, fighting with a friend,_

He scoffed. "It was. If I had just been there sooner, i-if I had been faster, better, stronger, anything to help them, I could have… I…"

"You could have what? Saved them?" The man's voice is not unkind, but he can feel hot tears welling up behind his eyelids. "What's done is done. There's no use beating yourself up over it. There's no going back. There's no stopping it. It's happened, it's over, they're dead, and now we have to move on."

"Simple for you to say," he mutters, rubbing furiously at his eyes. The man's smile never diminishes, and he places a gloved hand on one of the backpack straps. Not close enough to be a good guy, but not far enough to be distant.

"They were my friends too." He finishes rubbing his eyes and feels ashamed. It's true and he knows it. It was cruel of him to suggest otherwise, but the man beside him is not angry. He's not even hurt. He has been through this kind of loss before, though he has never openly spoken about it. That is most likely the reason he is so levelheaded, for once. And the man is being so gracious, despite everything he and his friends had done to him when they were all children. "C'mon. Don't I still owe you an ice cream?"

He nods and takes one last look at the three graves. The headstones were well-chosen. They would have liked him, he thinks. Then he nods and turns his back to the cemetery, and walks back down the mountain with this old friend of his. It doesn't mean he doesn't feel responsible. It doesn't mean that he will stop missing them It doesn't mean that he will forget them. But it does mean that he will move on. And the rain will pass.

_We died like aunts or pets or foreigners. _

_(When we left high school nothing else had died _

_For us to figure we had died like.)_


	25. Losses 3

Losses 3 (Scarecrow Dementia)

**A/N: AU time. You'll know what it is when you get to it, but I indulged myself. The other two were mainstream; this is almost the universe I'm going to be writing about after Runa. Feedback is lovely.**

It had been so easy.

Watching as the sickness ate away at them, warping their bodies and souls. He could do nothing to prevent it, so he just stood by and watched. He helped ease the pain when he could, but he sought no answers. He knew full well that no one had any to give. There was no remedy, no cure, no help for these helpless. Family or not, he could do nothing for them. That had not been the easy part.

Often he thought that maybe if he had looked, he would have found something. He knew that he wouldn't, but doubt plagued him. It seeped under the gas mask and straightjacket, embedding itself in his skin. His skin, covered with needle tracks and scars. He remembered a time when there had been a girl, loud and crazy and brilliant, and he had loved her. He remembered loving, but he could not remember love itself. It was not the only feeling he could no longer recall.

_In the routine crashes- and our fields_

He had not been present when the sickness started. That was what saved him from sharing their fate. He had away to deal with something that had arisen at home, and when he had returned everyone was wearing masks and gloves. He had been given some and cautioned not to go near the sick. He had, of course. He wasn't a rulebreaker by nature, (though that changed quickly enough,) but they were his best friends. He at least owed it to them to say hi. So he had, and he had been shocked at the transformation. Eyes sick and yellow and reptilian, skin turning to scales and fur and fingers curling into claws, wings seething underneath frothing skin. They would die before they completed the transformation. They begged him, in voices hoarse from their vocal chords being shredded, to please kill them once they were too far gone.

Every morning and every night he would sneak in and ask them their names. And every morning and every night, they would tell him. They would suffer through another day, fighting the sickness as best they could. It was so simple, really; he was surprised that it hadn't been done earlier. Lao Mang Long in their breakfast. Concentrated so that they would change hours after consuming it, not seconds. And they wouldn't see it coming. It would render their bodies and minds slowly enough to drive them all mad and evil, four more pawns for a demon. At first, he wondered why he hadn't been poisoned too, but then he remembered. He had skipped breakfast that day. In his haste to get home and check on his father's broken leg, (so trivial compared to the sickness,) he had forgotten to eat. The irony was not lost on him.

_Called up the papers, wrote home to our folks,_

Eventually, he had come in and they did not reply. Empty eyes, the pupils slits or opaque. Transformations that were almost complete. He knew that if he did not kill them, no one else would. So he had gone down to the armory, a room that was to be used in only the most desperate of times. He considered this pretty desperate. A Colt .44, loaded and everything. Old, yes, but operational. It would be the least painful way. He went back to the sickbay, said his last goodbyes, and killed them.

He hadn't thought to muffle the noise.

The elder monks were furious. Killing was not allowed. He remembered being oddly dispassionate about the whole thing. The easy part had been pulling the trigger. He hadn't even blinked. There had been some pride involved in the whole matter, he was certain. Pride that he could do it, do what no Xiaolin Warrior had ever done before. He could kill. He was kicked out, of course, but that idea stayed with him, whispering in the back of his head. You killed them for mercy, because the sickness hurt them, because they asked you to, because no one else had the guts. It became the first voice. Others joined it, but that was after he began to commit crimes.

_And the rates rose, all because of us._

He hadn't meant to turn to crime. But it was so easy, just like pulling the trigger once, twice, more. It was power and pride, and he found that he liked both. In this new city, all dark and gritty like the corner of his mind where the voices dwelled, crime was commonplace. He would show them that he was more than just commonplace. He would show them. He would show them all.

It had been simple. He had remembered something that the girl he loved had shown him- a comic book. Villains spreading chaos and fear in a city just like this one. The fear rung a bell, and so he began to carve out his new identity. A new home, a new occupation, a new face. This face was made of goggles, a sack and a gas mask, the burlap scratchy against his skin. He cut holes for his eyes and mouth, pulled the sack over his head and put on the goggles and gas mask. His old hat, a trenchcoat, gloves. Gas that would make people scream and cower while he walked by, collecting what was his.

The police couldn't catch him. Even when he was cornered, the earth would protect him and the gas would let him get away. Even those who hadn't breathed it in feared him, feared his new face and new name. Fear was power. Money was power. And he was getting more and more powerful. Eventually, he was caught, by someone who was darker than night and who scared him. Exposure to the chemicals he used for the gas had left him immune to its effects, but this person truly scared him. He loved it.

_Till our lives wore out; our bodies lay among_

It was a she. Clothed in black, a cape swirling around her feet and confusing him. He couldn't tell what was she and what was shadow. She had wings, dark and leathery, tucked behind the cape, but he saw them. Pointed ears, fangs when she snarled. (Just like-) He had no doubts that she was ugly, incredibly ugly. In the end, he thought he had beaten her. He had gotten her against a wall, ready to use his fear gas and listen to her scream. Then she had ripped off his mask and punched him in the face, and he had staggered back. She picked up his hat and looked him straight in the eye. Her eyes were vorpal behind the mask. Then she had spoken, and her voice had shaken him to the core.

"You're a lousy shot."

_The people we had killed and never seen._

She had apprehended him, and now here he was. No mask, nothing to hide his face or his madness. Locked up in a white room, underneath a glaring light. A straightjacket to keep him down. But he would get out. He knew how. He was ready. All he needed was the right moment, and then he would escape. Then he and the girl he loved would get to fight together again. It would be wonderful. He would be happy. They would be happy, after so many years of separation and misery and loneliness. Surely she, too, had succumbed to the voices. Locked up in a white room, dying to communicate.

He threw back his head and laughed.

_It wasn't different: but if we died _

_It was not an accident but a mistake _

_(But an easy one for anyone to make.) _

**Three down, two to go. To crazychick14, close, but think back for a moment. Who did Jack say he owed ice cream in the original series? Does Raimundo use slang incorrectly (though that was, admittedly, only one instance)? And why would the Dragon of Wind cause rain? Just food for thought. ;)  
>And to my newest reviewer, sir (because from the kitchen comment I'm assuming you're a sir,) I'm very much aware that Emma is a Mary Sue, though I must argue with the b*tch part. I cannot agree with you more that my stories are stupid and that I am a waste of space. Truly, you have shown me up with your sharp wit and intellect. I have been humbled. <strong>_**Really.**_** Now shut up and buy a dictionary.  
>Also. Bonus points if you can name the lyrics that inspired me. I hid them in there. He is, after all, almost gone, isn't he? If not completely. So I thought it was fitting. Review, please. <strong>


	26. Losses 4

Losses 4 (Alone)

**A/N: I'm using names here because Raimundo is… well, I just can't let him treat this as impersonally as the others. Kimiko had elements, Omi was grieving too deeply to use names, and… well, insanity leaves little room for recognition. Trust me on that one. Anyway. **

Raimundo still had a hard time accepting it. Three years ago and they had all been fine, laughing, joking around and saving the innocent just like they always did. They were heroes and heroines, paving the way for a better world. He loved it. They all did. So what went wrong? What had he done- what had they done- to deserve this?

Maybe it was the first time he had noticed them growing apart. Every weekend, once chores were done, they would go see a movie together. It was a fun, teenager-y thing to do. They all liked it. So what had happened? Or rather, why had they grown apart? They had all started making excuses as to why they couldn't go, yes, but that wasn't the answer. One day, Omi was a naïve little kid, and the next, he was a teenager, getting taller and taller and more savvy about the world around him. He began to want to explore it. Clay had begun to really miss his home and his family, and Kimiko wanted to get back to Japan to start running the family business. Raimundo missed his family, too, and the circus life had been great, but they couldn't just leave. They couldn't just abandon their duty.

_In our new planes, with our new crews, we bombed_

As it turned out, the duty abandoned them as soon as it felt their commitment wavering. The elements grew weaker inside them, and soon enough, vanished. Master Fung explained that the elements chose the hosts that best channeled them. Even Raimundo's powers began to fade as he doubted the stability of his friends, and then, himself. He was not one for self-pity, but what could he do except fight for it? And fight he did, but nothing could stop it. Master Fung said that it had always happened, and would always happen. The elements were restless, and no one was immortal.

Eventually, they had left. Clay first, when his father got cancer and had to retire. His mother needed him back home to help run the ranch. Jessie couldn't do it by herself, and they missed him. What Clay didn't mention was that the cancer was terminal. And genetic. He had left with a short goodbye, nothing overly fancy or tearful. Raimundo realized in the days afterwards how much the Texan had contributed to life around the Temple, and how it was far quieter without him. Which was odd, seeing as Clay was the least talkative of the four.

_The ranges by the desert or the shore,_

Omi had snuck off in the middle of the night. The note left in his room explained that he was off to see the world, and he didn't want anyone coming after him. It said that he'd be back once he had his fill of sightseeing, and that they shouldn't worry. Raimundo and Kimiko ignored it, of course, and searched frantically for their little brother, but he had done a fantastic job of covering his tracks. All he had taken were the Crouching Cougar and the Gills of Hamachi. For months they looked, and Clay did some searching around the U.S. once he heard about it, but they still came up with nothing. It was as if he had simply vanished.

Kimiko left on her eighteenth birthday. She kissed Raimundo goodbye and left on one of her papa's jets, on her way to bigger and better things. Every night Raimundo would text her until they both fell asleep. Eventually, she got too busy to answer his texts. By then they had stopped looking for Omi and Clay had stopped sending letters. His last letter, though, was one that worried Raimundo. It was short and terse, and his handwriting was shakier than usual. Raimundo tried calling his house, but got nothing. Eventually, he found Jessie's cell phone number in Clay's old room and called her.

_Fired at towed targets, waited for our scores-_

She was surprised to hear from him, to say the least, but she was cordial. Raimundo explained that he was just a little worried about Clay from the letter he had gotten a month back, and had waited so long to call only out of respect for Clay's personal life. The other end was silent for so long Raimundo thought Jessie had hung up. When she finally answered, it was quiet and a little teary. The cancer had eaten away at her father's gut until he finally succumbed to it. When they found out Clay had it too, there wasn't enough money left for the chemotherapy. He had died in pain, and Raimundo hadn't even known. (He had missed the funeral. That was what kept nagging at his mind. He missed. His best. Friend's. Funeral.) Jessie explained shakily that Clay hadn't wanted anyone to know, because he knew that they would worry and make a big deal out of it. He had just wanted to go quietly so his friends wouldn't have to worry about him. Selfless to the end, their Clay.

He went to visit the grave with Kimiko. It was a simple grave for a simple man, and they both agreed that Clay would have liked it. His name, his lifespan, all on a typical gravestone. Nothing decadent, no ornamentation. A patch of recently overturned dirt was the only evidence that Clay Bailey was newly dead. Kimiko cried. Raimundo did not. Now that Clay was gone, he would be the strong one. He would bear the burdens and responsibility. Except, with no friends left at the Temple, whose burdens could he shoulder?

A month later, he got a text from Jermaine. Omi had dropped by to visit, and had been welcomed into the Harrison household for as long as he liked. Omi had insisted that he only needed shelter for the night, and Jermaine saw him out the next day. They had talked for a while, about where Omi had been and what he had seen and who he had met. Jermaine said that Omi never mentioned not telling the other Dragons where he was going. They had walked out to Main Street, said their goodbyes and parted ways. Jermaine didn't know what it was that made him look back, but he had- and he regretted it.

_And turned into replacements and woke up_

A car crash. A screech of tires and the scream of a boy-turning-man and a crash. The gas tank exploded. Boom. No more car. No more driver. No more Omi. There was nothing left to bury, not even a scrap of clothing. Jermaine hadn't been able to sleep right since, his nights haunted with visions of corpses and fire. There was no funeral to go to this time, and no gravestone. Raimundo had insisted that they at least put one up in the Temple's cemetery, but the elders denied him. They said that it would be desecrating Omi's memory if there was nothing to put under the marker. Raimundo was furious, and his temper only flared more when he told Kimiko and she agreed with the elder monks.

Then, once he was done venting, he noticed that she was oddly quiet. And it wasn't like her to just agree like that. He asked if anything was wrong, and, in a terrifyingly even voice, she explained that she was breaking up with him. The long-distance relationship wasn't working, she needed a break, she needed to focus more on her work, she was very busy running the company now that her papa had retired and she hoped they could still be friends. After a long silence, he hung up. Kimiko most likely cried. Raimundo didn't. He was done. He was going home and he was forgetting about everything. He was going to have a nice, normal life back in Rio. Maybe he would finally be happy.

Years and years later, he went to go see a charity concert. Tohomiko Industries was funding the whole thing, and so he thought that maybe he'd see her there. He spent most of the concert with his neck craned for any sign of Kimiko, but nothing. At one point he even tried to get past security to see if she was talking to the singers backstage or something, but he was caught. He would have been thrown out, too, if not for a singer that had noticed and bailed him out. The woman glanced over him and shook her head, saying, "It's too late for that, Rai. It was always too late." He could have sworn he knew her, (the Michael Kors glasses, maybe the way they tilted wrong, or the heaviness in her eyes,) but he knew he didn't. She was right, though. He needed to stop chasing his old life. He needed to move on. He knew he never could, though.

She left for good at 71. He didn't get invited to the funeral.

_One morning, over England, operational._

**Okay, I'm done. A writer can only take so much angst. Sorry, Jack, you don't get a dead-Dragons oneshot. XD Also, my best friend who finally got an account, BerserkMonster, is about to post her collab with me on a DC-XS crossover. It's gonna be boss, so stay tuned! :D**


	27. Rules

Rules

**A/N: Hmmkay. So remember those rules mentioned in chapter whatever of Runa? No? Well, I'm here to explain what those are… in story form! *jazz hands* Enjoy!**

The Xiaolin Warriors were around the dinner table, chowing down on that night's meal of rice. They had gotten through an extra-tough day of training, and were starved, so the extra portions Dojo had whipped up were devoured with fervor. Just as Omi was reaching for thirds, Master Fung walked in. The kids froze- he almost never interrupted dinner. "Clay, come with me," he said, nodding at the Texan. Everyone's gaze shot to the boy, who stood slowly and headed out the door. Master Fung left and Clay followed, but not before shooting the other four an 'Ah-dunno-what's-goin'-on-either-' glance. Master Fung led him to the library, keeping silent the entire way. By the time they reached the library, Clay was incredibly nervous, even though he knew he hadn't done anything wrong.

"You're not in trouble, just so you know," Master Fung said, alleviating Clay's fears. The Texan sighed in relief, then paused as another thought occurred to him. He was about to ask when Master Fung answered the question- "You're here because of Emma." This raised even more questions, but Clay kept silent, knowing that he'd get answers soon enough. Master Fung pulled one of the older scrolls from it's place at the top of the bookshelf, sitting at one of the tables that dotted the library. Clay took the seat opposite him as he unrolled the scroll and moved it so that it faced Clay. The boy read over it, his eyes growing wide when he realized what the scroll was about.

"Master Fung, Emma and Ah are just friends," he began, but Master Fung raised a hand, and he fell silent.

"Clay, it's obvious that Emma has a crush on you." Clay felt his face heat up.

"Sir, all due respect, Ah don't think she does," he said, chuckling weakly. "Ah mean, this is Emma we're talkin' about. She ain't really into romance, not like Kimiko. Sh-she's just- no, she don't like me like that." Master Fung raised an eyebrow, and Clay knew that he had heard the lack of conviction. Clay wasn't sure whether or not he even wanted Emma to like him, but he was pretty sure she did. After all, she treated him differently than she did Jack or Raimundo or Omi. Granted, Jack and Raimundo were her frenemies, and Omi was like a little brother, but the differences remained.

"Clay. Emma has feelings for you. And this is a problem according to our rules," he added, motioning to the scroll. Clay already knew what it said; he, like the other Dragons, had been briefed on the rules once they had come to the Temple. Amongst the things like "don't run in the great hall" and "don't play soccer near the Ming vase collection" there was one rule that corresponded with what Master Fung was telling him. Xiaolin Dragons could not, on any account, have a relationship with non-Warriors. It was for the safety of those who couldn't defend themselves, should the Heylin try to capture or kill them as leverage. Kimiko and Raimundo didn't have to think twice about it, but it meant that, until he stopped being Dragon of Earth, he would be single. He had never worried about it, seeing as he wasn't really interested in having a girlfriend, but if Emma liked him…

"I don't really want to interfere with any of your business," Master Fung continued, his words only being half-received by Clay, "but if you do reciprocate those feelings, you're going to have to let her down gently. Emma's a good kid, but I am not willing to go against any rules the Temple may have. I know that you aren't, either." He stood and patted Clay on the shoulder. "Oh, and I doubt there are any loopholes, so it would probably be a waste of your time trying to look for them. After all, you know how watertight those ancient scrolls are." And with that, he left. Had Clay been a little less shellshocked, he might have registered that there was something strange in Master Fung's tone. But as it was, he didn't, and simply re-rolled the scroll and put it back.

"Clay?" He turned around at the voice. Emma was peering around the door, curiosity written all over her face. "Wassup? We wanted to know if everything was okay."

"Uh, yeah, everything's just fine. Master Fung was just, uh… remindin' me to reshelve the scrolls in th' back," he said, attempting a smile. "Since Ah knocked 'em down yesterday, ya know."

"Oh, you did? Must have been while I was working on my healing spells. I'll tell 'em that you're not in trouble. Comin' back up?" she asked, her normal smile back in place.

"Y'know, Ah'm pretty full. Ah think Ah'll go on ahead an' hit th' hay." Emma shrugged.

"Suit yourself. I'll tell Rai he can have your servings." She ran off to tell the others, and Clay remained where he was, staring at the place she had been. He sighed and began the walk back to his room. "Naw, she don't like ya, Clay, that's nonsense… jus' nonsense."

**But I'm not done yet! This isn't enough to contribute to a chapter, is it? Nope, so here's something extra. More rules, and practice in first-person POV. Onward! :D**

Here's how it works. Quote-unquote, _Xiaolin Dragons keep the balance of the world in order until they reach a point where the elements need stronger hosts. This may occur due to the Dragons wishing to age naturally, or to pursue other lifestyles. The Dragons may keep a semblance of their powers in magic afterwards, but they will no longer have a connection to their particular element. The elements choose the Dragons, not the other way around._ We cycle through. If you're done, you're done, but there's no going back, so you have to be careful. We're lucky, though. We're still kids, and we have more than enough time to decide.

Only thing is, everybody else at the Temple doesn't. Kimiko and Omi and Clay and me, well, we're fine. But Emma? Emma's doomed. Her magic is weird; she calls it backwards magic. To the best of my knowledge, backwards magic is the manifestation of a person's emotions. Emma says most Xiaolin magic is fueled by willpower or hope or love or compassion. She says that Heylin magic is fueled by fear or rage or greed. There's this thing called the emotional spectrum, and she says everybody is motivated by one emotion over all the others. Us elementals, we just tap into the core energies of the world around us, and that blocks out any other magic.

She says that if we did have it, though, my main emotion is will, and Kimiko's is love. Omi has hope, and Clay's is compassion. She said Chase is fear, which didn't make sense until she explained that people who relied on fear used the fear of others, not their own. She said Jack is greed, and she doesn't really know what Wuya is. Greed too, probably. I asked Emma what she was, figuring she'd say hope or something, but she just ignored the question. Knowing Emma, on the positive side it's definitely hope, and on the negative, I think it's rage. Kimiko's temper is worse, but she calms down pretty quickly. Emma's a loose cannon in every respect.

Anyway. She says that since the two sides of the spectrum, Heylin and Xiaolin are all these emotions, there's something else that she uses. Life energy. Here she kind of faltered, like she was having a hard time explaining it. After a minute or two, she finally settled on saying that she has access to the entire emotional spectrum. She uses her own set of emotions, depending on which one is predominant at the moment, to fuel her attacks and spells. And she added that there were other energies, too, life and death, and that, eventually, we would understand. She babbled for a while about something called the Blackest Night before finally resurfacing into the land of normal. 'Welcome back, we made you some lemonade while you were gone.'

So that's how her magic works. She gets all of the emotional spectrum, and the life energy thing she was talking about. All mixed together, that forms her self-proclaimed backwards magic. Apparently, only two other people in the history of ever have had it. She says she can't name them, because if she does, she'll get in trouble. With who or what, I dunno, but I guess they must not be very merciful to make Emma clam up about it. She also says that spectrum magic's not the only type of magic. Heylin and Xiaolin magic are the same thing as light magic and dark magic, white magic and black magic, whatever. So, that's the two 'ends' of the emotional spectrum, and her magic is something in-between. Makes sense, since she kind of is too. I mean, she's never betrayed us or anything, but… I think it's possible, if not probable. Like I said, loose cannon.

Well, there you have it. Again, I'm not an expert or anything, but that's a pretty solid synopsis. I hope it helped… hey, what did you say this was for again? What do you mean, a new fanfiction? … I don't know what a crossover is. Okay, well, I'm just gonna go now. Um… bye.

**AAAAAAAHAHAHAHA. I spellchecked/grammarchecked/punctuationchecked ****none**** of this. Review or perish!**


	28. Making Fiends

**Making Fiends**

**Hey, y'all! Thanks for stickin' with me; I know I haven't updated in ages, but I've been busy with Runa and Knightfall. Also, thanks to Marukaite Chikyuu Doitsu for your review. I absolutely squee'd when I read it, so thanks a million! :D It's really heartening to hear that, especially from a new reviewer. So, I updated after forever and a day! Enjoy!**

Jack hadn't actually planned to kidnap the new guy. It had just sort of worked out that way. He had gone to battle the Xiaolin Losers, brought some upgraded Jack-Bots and lost. Nothing too out of the ordinary, really, but he had been getting more wins lately, so all was good. The new Jack-Bots had more spikes, just for looks. The leader even had a mohawk. They were pretty cool, but most of them got trashed. So he had flown back to base with what he could salvage, his dozen or so remaining robots trailing after him. Once he got back to his evil lair, he had decided to take a break and watch some TV, when he heard a crashing sound coming from his lab. He ran in to see some short guy wearing a jacket trying to detach himself from a Jack-Bot. The hood had caught on one of the new spikes, and Jack recognized the guy from the Temple.

Moments after helping him down, Jack was surprised to recieve a grin and a higher-pitched "Thanks!" than he had been expecting. Then the guy had glanced at him and asked "What? Somethin' wrong?"

"Uh, no, it's just that... I didn't really expect the Xiaolin Lo- ahem- Warriors to be taking on another guy." The boy with the jacket laughed and shook his head.

"Oh, well, y'see-" Then, all of a sudden, his eyes flashed, and he looked a lot more menacing than he had a few seconds ago. "... Did you just call me a guy?" If possible, Jack went even paler. That explained the pitch of the voice. And now that he looked, the features were kind of... feminine-ish, though the outfit didn't help. Nor did the haircut. Before Jack had a chance to explain this, however, he found himself being flung across the lab. "I! AM! A! GIRL!" the girl shrieked, hands in fists and eyes aflame.

"Jack-Bots, get him! I mean, uh, her!" She wasn't as experienced as the others, so she went down fairly easy. Jack suspected that was also how she had gotten caught on the robot in the first place. He had the Jack-Bots put her in the birdcage he'd used while capturing Kimiko (newly repaired and reinforced), much to her chagrin. She mostly kicked and clawed at air, straining to get out. "You'll never hold me! Nothing can hold me! I am Baaaaaane!"

"What?"

"I vill break you!"

"Why a German accent?"

"'Cause I can't do a South American one. And Bane is from South America or Mexico or somewheres. So shut yo mouf!" After assigning a few Jack-Bots to guard her, Jack had left to go buy some more pudding cups, the girl shouting at him in some other language until he shut the door. He paused outside, listening to make sure she wasn't trying to escape. He heard silence for a moment, then- "So, you guys know any good prison songs?"

* * *

><p>Jack had arrived to one of the weirdest sounds he had ever heard. When he entered the lab, he had nearly dropped the grocery bag full of pudding. Thankfully, he had been in too much confusionawe/WTF-ment to let go of the bag. The sound was not one he had ever expected to hear, and yet, there it was.

_"Do ya like waffles?"_

_"Yeah we like waffles!"_

_"Do ya like pancakes?"_

_"Yeah we like pancakes!"_

_"Do ya like French toast?"_

_"Yeah we like French toast!"_

_"Doo doo-doo-doo can't wait to get a mouthful!"_ Jack stormed down the stairs, pushing through his Jack-Bots to face the girl. "Great job, everybody!" she chirped. "'Cept for you, Billy. You were a little flat." A robot near the back hung his head.

"What are you doing?" he screamed in a voice that was not at all really high. The girl, who was swinging on the bar inside the cage, turned to him and grinned

"Yo! I'm just teaching all your robots here to sing," she explained. "You can thank me after you hear 'em do Good King Wenceslas."

"Wha- no! NO!" Jack stormed over, shoving the Jack-Bots aside to face the cage. "My Jack-Bots are vicious killing machines! They do not sing!"

The girl shrugged. "Whatever you say, dude. They can be kinda pitchy, sure, but as for killing machines... well, you got your albino butt handed to ya earlier. Not too vicious."

Jack glared daggers at her. "Feh. You would say that. You're on their side, after all." The girl tilted her head but didn't say anything, so Jack began to monologue. "I mean, I work so hard to constantly improve my Jack-Bots, day after day, only to get them destroyed! The only way I can even win at Showdowns is by cheating. And if that's not enough, my social life is down the toilet too, since nobody wants to be friends with the nerdy freak who's rich so he must be a snob too. And even if they did-"

"- You've already pulled away from any social interaction so that anyone who's kind enough to be friends with you doesn't have to go through the crap you do every day. After all, why put somebody else through it if you could save them the trouble by going it alone, right?" Jack stopped his pacing and faced the girl, confused. She just smiled and shrugged. "You're not the only nerdy rich freak in the world, y'know. Other people know what it's like. I do." She jumped to the floor of the cage and held her hand through the bars. "My name's Emma, by the way."

Jack stared at her hand for a moment before hesitatingly reaching over and shaking it. "... Jack. Jack Spicer."

The girl shook his hand vigorously, grinning broadly. Then she said in an echoing voice that sounded nothing like hers, "_**Houdini**_," and pointed at the lock on her cage. She stepped out briskly, and when she spoke again, her normal voice had returned. "Well, nice to make your formal aqcuaintance, then, Jack! I take it you're evil, what with the basement lair and robot army and all?"

"Uh." His surprise at hearing her voice go all weird and her getting out of an industrial-strength cage had rendered him mute for the moment. Emma, however, took this in stride, and began poking around his lab, chattering on all the time about how cool robots were and wasn't it neat that he was albino just like Elric and occasionally breaking into song about the strangest things. At one point she was singing about demolition rickshaws, if he heard her correctly. Finally, she stopped running rampant and joined him again. "So, ya got any first-person shooter games?"

* * *

><p>"Well, Emma, you suck at this."<p>

"SHUT UP, DORKFACE."

"You're so meeeaaan!" Jack sobbed, glaring at Emma. She just stuck her tongue out at him.

"Don't be such a baby." She pulled up her sleeve, revealing a watch. "Ahh, I better get goin'. Well, this has been fun, Jack! See you around!" She hopped off the couch and headed for the door. "Same time next week, okay? I'll bring Oreos!"

"Uh..." And before Jack could answer, she was gone. He shook his head in amazement, before realizing what she said. "Wait- she's coming back?"

**A/N: Teehee! Not the best of friends, huh? Leave a review on your way out; I need oneshot ideas! Even songfic ones! Just help meeeeee~ DX**


	29. Pretty Odd

**Pretty. Odd.**

_Breathe, darling, breathe._

A shattered heart is no heart of mine, no sir. I gave mine away- prematurely, as all dreamers do- and it got smashed. I am, by definition, (though I am one hundred percent undefinable,) an almost crazy somewhat heartless parabnormality and that is just the way I like it. But somewhat heartless girls, dreamers especially, still have hearts, and giving it away was my choice and mine alone, and the repercussions no one's fault but mine. There's plenty of blame to go around, of course, there always is, but no matter how much I scream and stomp and bargain I am the only one responsible. Even the one who broke my heart and wrecked my mind didn't know he'd done it until far, far too late. Why two fars too late?

I'm dead.

Dead, dead, dead! As a doornail and a corpse, but my body fell too far for the maggots to reach me. Past bedrock, into the Abyss and beyond. (I'm going to tell you a secret, dear reader; I don't have a soul. I am a soul. I have a body. And the same goes for nearly everyone else, except the corporate scumbags who sold theirs for worldly things that will die with them.) I did not go to Heaven, and I did not go to Hell. I am somewhere in-between, the murk and magic in myself caught in the veil like a girl in a spiderweb. I remember hating spiders. I'm not so afraid of them anymore…

Ghost Pokémon were always my favorites, caught between Electric and something I simply can't recall. Black 2, White 2, to distract me from schoolwork and homework and all the like. How ironic that I join their ranks now, disembodied save for those of special sight and hearing, the blind and deaf and special and insane. Come, now, you didn't think insanity was an illness, to be diagnosed and neatly wrapped up with pills and straightjackets? No, insanity is uncontrolled magic gone to rot in the guts of those who can't take it. Overdosing, sometimes by accident and sometimes to poison themselves. That's why you shouldn't do drugs.

Dreams are my favorite method of transport. There was one with a big, lovely bed, ten feet long and wide and it dipped in the center, with thin white sheets and overstuffed white pillows and a thick white blanket, and it hung from posts on the ceiling that slowly swung it back and forth, in a mostly-glass room above a city, just tilted to watch the sunset before the warm blankets and cool breeze and rocking sent you to sleep. Dream things are almost always much better than real things, but that's a given and dreams are earned. Earned by whom, and through what means? By children and dreamers and others lucky enough to catch one as it passes over them, reaching out in their sleep to snatch it from the air and pull it into themselves. Through the means of ice cream before bed, no matter what parents say, and cartoons and a long day of playing outside. Friendship. Heartbreak. Loss. Joy. Christmas. Dreams depend on the person, the occasion and the moon, and other variables I'm not at liberty to discuss.

After all, I am dead.

What was I saying? Oh, yes, I'm a ghost. It's an interesting existence, walking through people to give them cold chills, whispering kind things into the ears of kind people and curses into the ears of the spiteful. The only thing is, He kept me here for a reason- it's always for a reason, that's simply how it works- I just don't know what that reason is. Yet. I'll find it soon, I can feel it, and once I finish whatever it is He left me here to do, which may or may not be my last chance at getting past the pearly gates, I'll be finished. Of course, that's what Deadman thought. Then the Green was corrupted, and he was pulled back out, and he lost his heart and he died again, he had to, and so the Green was restored. I will die again. If I am brought back- if- I will die. That is how it must be. I don't want to cheat Death and I don't want to cheat Him, (and surely you know who He is, don't you?)

So, I roam, watching and waiting and wishing to sleep. The chain of death binds me just as the chain of life did, but this time I will not rebel against the cycle. I will wait. I will be good. I will do as I am told and take my medicine without crying, no matter the taste. I will keep my heart in a small, locked box, where it cramped and dark and hard to breathe, and I will never, never let it out. I will not promise anything to anyone. It will hurt, this much I know, but the hurt will end, as all hurt does, and when it's over, I will hope. Quietly, inwardly, and the box will creak open, but I will be dead again and it will be too late and I will try not to laugh spitefully, but I probably will anyway. I will hope. And perhaps my hope will be dashed to bits, like my body, like my heart. And perhaps it will be filled up to overflowing, drowning me with it's glow. This much I believe, and this much will come to pass, eventually, somehow.

But I am dead.

"_I'm sorry."_

"_Fer what?"_

"_For ever… ever thinking you would love me. For ever thinking anyone could love me."_

"_But…"_

_"Please don't lie. Not now."_

"… _Ah'm sorry too."_

"_Yeah. But you'll get over it. The only difference is, I won't."_

"_Oh."_

**Mmph. School is here, clawing away at my time and energy, and updates will be far and few between, and so for that I apologize. Many thanks, all.**


	30. What Could Have Been

**What Could Have Been  
>(What Could Still Be)<br>**

Emma woke with a start. She knew, deep inside the marrow of her bones, she wasn't in her own world. Not many people understand that feeling, but for those who have been misplaced, it is as primordial and deep as the need to breathe. Her world was gone and she was not in it, and this bothered her greatly. She sat up and looked around, finding herself to be in a small yellow room crammed with stacks of books and a daybed in the corner. The ceiling was sloped, though there was plenty of room for her to stand. A girl with a shock of mousy brown hair lay on the bed, her back to Emma. Emma recognized the girl immediately, though she couldn't see her face.

"Spadefire? What am I doing here?" The girl didn't move, but Emma could tell she was awake. "Spade?"

"I don't wanna be called that anymore," murmured the girl.

"Well, then what do you want to be called?" Emma asked in a rare show of gentleness.

"I don't know. Something more interesting, I guess." The girl sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. She turned to look at Emma through red-rimmed eyes. "I don't want Xiaolin Showdown to come back."

Emma's expression jolted into one of confusion. "What? Why not? That was your favorite show as a kid! It still is!"

"I know, but… think about it. What will happen?" Emma shrugged, and the girl sighed. "They'll keep going. You won't be in it. For years I dreamed about sending in your storyline, pictures of you, anything, but I never did. And now it's too late. They're going again, and now what's going to happen? Anything! Clay might die, or switch sides, or even get a love interest!" she cried, verging on hysteria. "What if people like her more than you? What if I like her more than you? What happens to you then, huh? You die, and I with you." The girl returned to her sniffling, burying her head in her arms folded over her knees, and Emma stood there, unsure of what to do.

"Would I really die?" squeaked the witch. The girl on the bed shrugged, and Emma faintly detected the walls of the room growing darker.

"I don't know. I like you, and I like writing you, and I think other people like you too, but what about all the other OC's? What if their authors abandon them? Their stories would be left, unfinished, forever to rot in the archives of Fanfiction."

Emma twisted her jacket sleeves in her hands, stretching out the black fabric. "Spade… why didn't you send in my information?" she whispered.

The girl looked up for a moment, tears streaking her sunburned face. "… I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"Rejection. Failure. I was afraid I would tell them and they would say no. Or worse, that I would tell them and they would say yes and somehow, through my parents or my schooling or my financial state I wouldn't be able to go. Your story would remain here, and I would never get to meet Jeff Bennett and Tara Strong and Tom Kenny and Christy Hui, and neither of us would be really fulfilled." She tucked her chin into the space between her arms and her knees, so only her eyes were staring balefully out into nowhere. "I keep thinking that maybe I could change the way things are, but I just can't. I never could."

"I know," Emma said, taking one more look around the pitiful room and at the pitiful girl. "That's why you write about me so much, right? You don't want me to be a Mary Sue, but you want me to be out there a lot, so people can know about me."

"Yes!" the girl sobbed. "Yes! And they're changing so much! They're changing Clay and Dojo and the Temple and there's gonna be a new monk and a new villain and it's gonna be like versions of Chase and Omi and there's gonna be CGI'd Showdowns and, and, and…" she whimpered, and Emma felt an immense wave of anger and pity and a wanting to go home. "Katnappé looks like Max from Batman Beyond in an Oriental Catwoman suit! I'm scared of what else is going to happen."

"I can't say anything to console you," Emma admitted, rubbing her arm. The girl sniffled and rubbed at her eyes, wiping away the tears.

"I know. I'm sorry for falling apart like this, it's just… I'm not good with change. You of all people oughta know that, right?" she asked, laughing weakly. "Heh. I'm sorry. I am. I should really just send you back."

"Yeah, okay."

"Goodbye, Emma."

"Goodbye, Spade. Maybe one day you'll get what you want."

"Yeah. Maybe." The girl waved her hand, and Emma disappeared as though a giant eraser had run right through her. The girl choked, and buried her head in her arms again, as though the tears would never stop.


	31. Tell Her About It

**Tell Her About It**

**A/N: Billy Joel is amazing and I just got The Essential Billy Joel so I will probably be songfest-ing it up for a bit. XD Hoping to relieve the angst party I've been having… though, honestly, they gave Clay a mullet. A MULLET, YOU GUYS. Aagh. I'm so spazzing needlessly about this… it'll probably be awesome. I'm just a worrywart. Anywho, have some Raikim, a couple I have been neglecting. Enjoy!**

Raimundo was in a bit of a quandary. Half of that was because of the fact that his girlfriend had been ignoring him as of late, and half because he liked to say the word quandary. But he was facing a real dilemma; Kimiko wasn't talking to him. He hadn't noticed the gradual changes at first, but then it had become very apparent that she had found some transgression on his part, and his punishment was silence. He had tried asking her what the problem was, but she had just huffed about something or another. Kimiko was not the kind of girl to just get upset over nothing, so Raimundo knew that he had made a wrong move somewhere. He just couldn't tell where.

So, (though it may have not been the best idea, it was really his only choice,) he went to the only other guy in the Temple. Well, the only guy that could actually get a girlfriend. He found Clay under the elm tree in the Temple courtyard, playing some obscure country song. He paused when he noticed Raimundo approach him, giving his friend a tip of the hat. "Mornin', Rai. What's got you up so early?"

"Ah, just some stress," Raimundo replied, glancing around. No sign of anyone else around- a good thing, considering that he didn't want one of the other residents to see his distress. Certainly not any that might blackmail him. "But, while I'm here, mind if I get a little, um, advice?"

Clay raised an eyebrow. "Yer comin' to me fer advice?"

"… Yes."

"What about?"

"… Girls."

"Ah think we've both seen how well Ah've done there."

"I know that you totally screwed yourself over when you kicked Emma to the curb, but you're also the only quote-unquote dateable guy here, _and_ she was actually into you, so you must know something I don't," the Brazilian replied.

"Gee, thanks," muttered Clay. "Well, Ah suppose Ah could give it a shot. What's on yer mind?"

"Kimiko isn't talking to me." Clay thought for a moment, unconsciously playing an A chord.

"Hmm. Did y'all fight?"

"No."

"Were ya talkin' to another girl?"

"Not unless you count my sister, on Facebook."

"An' she knew it was yer sister?"

"Yeah, they actually get along pretty well."

"Alright… can ya think of anythin' rude or obnoxious or annoyin' ya mighta done? Any little comment that mighta insulted her, no matter how insignificant?"

"Nope. I've been wracking my brain for the past few days and I just can't think of anything I might have done," he sighed.

"Well… when was the last time ya told her what ya like about her?" Raimundo blinked. "Rai, if ya don't let her know how ya feel, she's gonna start to worry."

"But we're dating. Why would I need to tell her?" he asked. Clay sighed and shook his head.

"Man, if Ah can't make ya understand… well, maybe somebody else can," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"As long as it's not Jack," Raimundo said, suddenly thinking of the many ways he could be mentally scarred by jack Spicer having a better love life than him.

"Nah, you don't know him and he don't know you, but Ah think he'll teach ya just th' same," Clay said, smiling and pulling up his guitar. Raimundo jumped slightly as he began to play, and he swore he could hear more musical accompaniment in the distance. _"Listen boy, don't want to see you let a good thing slip away. You know Ah don't like watching anybody make the same mistakes Ah made. She's a real nice girl, an' she's always there for you. But a nice girl wouldn't tell ya what ya should do._

"_Oh, listen boy, I'm sure that you think you got it all under control."_

"I do, actua-"

"_You don't want somebody telling you the way to stay in someone's soul."_

"Ya think?"

"_You're a big boy now, an' you'll never let her go. But that's just the kind of thing she ought to know."_

"Hmph."

"_Tell her about it! Tell her everything you feel. Give her every reason to accept that you're for real. Tell her about it! Tell her all your crazy dreams. Let her know you need her, let her know how much she means."_

"I think I'm staring to get it…"

"_Listen boy, it's not automatically a certain guarantee. To insure yourself, you've got to provide communication constantly. When you love someone, you're always insecure. And there's only one good way to reassure…_

"_Tell her about it! Let her know how much you care. When she can't be with you, tell her you wish you were there. Tell her about it! Every day before you leave. Pay her some attention, give her something to believe._

"'_Cause now and then she'll get to worrying, just because you haven't spoken for so long."_

"And that's what's happening now?"

"_Though you may not have done anything, will that be a consolation when she's gone?"_

"Oh."

"_Listen boy, it's good information from a man who's made mistakes. Just a word or two that she gets from you could be the difference that it makes. She's a trusting soul; she's put her trust in you. But a girl like that won't tell you what you should do._

"_Tell her about it! Tell her everything you feel. Give her every reason to accept that you're for real. Tell her about it! Tell her all your crazy dreams. Let her know you need her, let her know how much she means."_

"_Tell her about it! Tell her how you feel right now, just tell her about it! The girl don't want to wait too long! You got to tell her about it! Tell her now and you won't go wrong, you got to tell her about it! Before it gets too late, you got to tell her about it. You know the girl don't want to wait - you got to tell her about it!"_

Raimundo paused as the music faded out, leaving only Clay's guitar, which stopped shortly after. "Ya understand me now?" Clay asked.

"Yeah, thanks, man!" Raimundo replied, smiling. "I'm gonna go talk to Kimiko right now!" He took off, leaving Clay to chuckle and shake his head, playing the first verse of Ladies Love Country Boys. He hadn't been a good big brother before, but he was sure gonna be a great one now.

**D'aww. Dat Raikim. XD Poor Clay… actually, he's completely ok with having crushed Emma. Speaking of whom, happy birfday!  
>Emma: Construction date celebration.<br>Yes, that too. Drop a review or I'll set fire to the rain! And then watch it rain on your house. *evil laugh* **


	32. Black And Blue

**Black and Blue**

**A/N: Just a peek into Emma's first few days at the Temple.**

"There is nothing good about this girl," Raimundo muttered, crossing his arms.

"Oh, c'mon, Rai, she's new at this," Kimiko replied. The two of them watched as Emma tried and failed- again- to maneuver the obstacle course. This time she had gotten to the sandbags, but had been knocked out of the course almost as soon as she tried to go through them. Emma sat up, rubbing her head and wincing. "She'll get better. Probably."

"I don't mean that," Raimundo said as they watched Emma shakily stand and walk back to the beginning. "I mean she's just not good at anything. She's not good at fighting, she's not fast, she's not strong, she's not that smart. All she can do is draw, and she's not even great at that."

"Give her a chance. I know she seems kind of... hopeless... but we promised her that she could join us in exchange for the Thunderwand. We're the Xiaolin Dragons. We can't back out of a promise," Kimiko reminded him. Omi was talking to Emma, trying to give her some pointers about the course but mostly just confusing her more. Clay joined Raimundo and Kimiko as Emma gave the course another go.

"How's the new recruit doin'?" he asked. Emma managed to scale the wall with less difficulty than before; she had discovered small handholds to help keep her steady while she climbed. She fell more than jumped off the wall, but got right back up and ran to the small pond. The alligator heads snapped at her feet as she hopped from one pole to another. She had almost gotten past it when one nabbed her ankle, and with a surprised shout she fell face-first into the water. The onlookers winced, and she pushed herself up, spitting out the muddy water.

"Uh, not great," Kimiko replied.

"She keeps getting back up, though, so that's something," Raimundo chuckled. Kimiko knew that his mirth was due more to Emma's impromptu swim than to her determination. Indeed, even now Emma ran a hand through her hair, wiped off her glasses and walked back to the starting line.

"Hey, you heard her when we first found out she had th' Thunderwand. She probably woulda begged to come with us if we hadn't said yes right away. Ah reckon if she wanted adventure so bad then, she ain't gonna give it up now," Clay drawled.

"We wouldn't have had to bring her along if she didn't know who we were, and she wouldn't have known who we were if _someone_ had just let me snatch the Thunderwand when she wasn't looking," Raimundo muttered, glancing at Omi.

Kimiko elbowed the Brazilian in the ribs, and Emma started the obstacle course yet again. "She found it before we did, Raimundo, so it would've been stealing. I mean, it literally landed on her doorstep. And besides, she agreed that if she thought the work here was too hard, she'd let us keep the Thunderwand and she'd go home."

Raimundo rolled his eyes. "If it didn't make hurricanes, I would've just left without it. She's annoying."

"Maybe, but she's getting better at the course," Kimiko pointed out. Emma had scaled the wall, successfully gotten past the alligators and was running towards the sandbags. She paused for a moment, eyeing the swinging punching bags, then dropped to the ground.

"What is she doing?" Raimundo asked. The Dragons watched as Emma army-crawled underneath the sandbags, standing once she was in the clear. Clay began to laugh, and Kimiko grinned. Raimundo seemed more annoyed than ever. "Hey, that's cheating!"

"I agree!" Omi said, joining his friends as they watched Emma approach the swinging blades.

"Not cheatin'," Clay said, still smiling. "Thinkin' outside the box- or in this case, outside the course."

She was now standing in front of the swinging blades, which gleamed blue in the harsh sunlight. Emma curled her hands into fists and pulled her elbows in, rocked back on her heels for a moment, then jolted forward. She seemed to do a strange kind of tribal dance as she bobbed and weaved through the blades. The Dragons could faintly make out a chant- _"Every-body-knowsthat-I'mma-mess-" _each syllable a step forward, then back, then forward again, her body jerking to an unheard rhythm. _"Every-body-knowsyou-stolemy-heartright-outmy-chest." _However, it worked, and she stepped out of the swinging blades without a scratch. She looked back as though she herself could not believe it, a crooked grin growing on her face, then gave a happy whoop and ran to the last part of the course.

"Out of the box? Try out of her mind," Raimundo muttered, crossing his arms obstinately.

"It worked, didn't it?" Clay asked, laughter in his voice.

"I am surprised a girl could get through the blades on her first try," Omi said. "Of course, she does not look very much like a girl, so I suppose that is not too surprising." Kimiko tried very hard not to punch him.

Emma jumped through a hoop and landed back at the starting line, still damp from her fall into the gator pond and from sweat, but grinning. "Ta-da!" she sang, putting her hands on her hips. "Not too bad, Em! Not too bad at all."

"I beg to differ!" Raimundo yelled, and the Irish girl winced. He strode over to the starting line, where she waited nervously. "First off, we took a lot of stuff off the course because you're just a beginner. You've got a long way to go until you're as good as us. Secondly, it took you, like, twenty something tries just to get through it. Thirdly, you cheated!"

"The bad guys cheat, don't they?" Emma asked, glaring at Raimundo.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean we can," he said.

"Why not? It seems pretty fair to me. An eye for an eye-"

"Makes the whole world blind," Omi interjected. He shrank back when both Raimundo and Emma glanced over to glare daggers at him, then turned back to each other to resume their argument. Clay put a hand on his shoulder, but neither he nor Kimiko stepped into the argument.

"Look, I know you don't like me," Emma began. "And I don't really care. But you're right, I'm not as good as you- _any_ of you! You've been doing this for two years and the most athletic thing I've done is marching band! So cut me a little slack, huh? The only way I'm going to get some leverage here is if I do things my way, and if that means cheating a little, so be it."

"No, not so be it. Cheating is just taking the easy way out, so get used to not taking shortcuts," Raimundo barked. "If you aren't willing to work hard, go home!"

Emma's eye twitched, and her hands curled into fists. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could speak a streak of yellow energy shot out from her, rocketing past Raimundo to hit a tree. It exploded in a burst of flame, and everyone turned to stare at it before, one by one, turning back to Emma. She seemed as shocked as the rest of them, her mouth agape.

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Emma!" She jumped at the voice, and looked back to see Master Fung walking up to the group. He took in the scene, and looked down at the girl. "Did you do this?" he asked, motioning to the tree.

"... Yes," she said meekly, all the anger drained out of her. Master Fung regarded her for a moment, then nodded.

"I see. Omi, Kimiko, put out the fire. I think we are done training today." With that, he turned around and left. The Warriors stared after him, all shocked that he wasn't angry. As Omi and Kimiko snapped out of it and got to work dousing the blaze, Raimundo and Clay both looked at Emma.

"... How did you do that?" Clay asked.

"Yeah, what was that?" Raimundo added.

"I don't know, I swear!" Emma cried, holding up her hands. "I just- sometimes, when I get really angry or excited, stuff like that just- happens! I don't control it or anything, though. I don 't know how to make it happen, it just kind of... does."

"Weird," Raimundo muttered. "Huh. Well, I guess you were right about one thing, Emma."

"What's that?" she asked, relieved to see that no one was angry with her.

"You're not too bad at all."

**HERP DERP I'm kind of back. Sorry about my uber-long absence, but I've been pottering around over on deviantART and because I enjoy drawing more than writing I've been very caught up in it. From now on I'll try and update more frequently, though I can't promise anything.**

**P.S. I update about every other day on dA, and it's almost all Xiaolin Showdown stuff, so if you wanna check it out my username is LightningIdle. Drop by sometime! *****scooters away***


	33. One More Time With Feeling

**One More Time With Feeling**

**A/N: Hnngghh Regina Spektor. Her music is amazing. Her and Billy Joel and I really want to list all my favorite songwriters but I won't 'cause that'd take forever. So instead, here is a Spektoral shot (the term coined by Marukaite Chikyuu Doitsu,) for all you lovely people. :3**

_Your stitches are all out_

_But your scars are healing wrong_

_And the helium balloon inside your room has come undone_

_And it's pushing up at the ceiling_

_And the flickering lights it cannot get beyond_

She tenderly poked at the gash running down her side. It was long and deep and ugly, marring her further. She sighed and let her shirt fall into place. As if she needed the extra ugliness. The girl stared at herself in the mirror, hatred seeping into her expression. The week she had spent in a coma after being gutted like a fish had emaciated her. She smiled grimly as she glanced at the way her jeans hung loose on her hips; at least she had lost some weight. Though she still looked pale and sickly, her hair matted down to her head from nights of pained sweating. She was healing, yes. But she wasn't healing right.

_Oh everyone takes turns_

_Now it's yours to play the part_

_And they're sitting all around you_

_Holding copies of your chart_

_And the misery in their eyes_

_Is synchronized and reflected into yours_

Emma hated the way they stared at her. They had watched her being taken over by an ink-and-tar monster, watched as she had tried to kill them. And she had been helpless inside her own body, screaming and fighting and being absolutely useless. They knew that, and still they stared as though she would erupt into black goo again and go for Omi's throat. She wouldn't. Of course she wouldn't. She had defeated Changeling, she had forced the darkness away and now she was in control. So why did they still stare?

_Hold on_

_One more time with feeling_

_Try it again_

_Breathing's just a rhythm_

_Say it in your mind_

_Until you know that the words are right_

_This is, why we, fight_

Out of everyone, she thought Clay would understand. She knew that he had been possessed by Sibini before. Surely he, of all people, would be able to sympathize and help her as she began to regain her health. As it was, she was growing better too slowly, and the others keeping their distance only made her feel worse. Then Clay, _her _Clay, refused to give her a shoulder to cry on. So she didn't cry and didn't breathe and fought on, as she had before the Warriors, and as she would should she ever lose the Warriors.

_You thought by now you'd be_

_So much better than you are_

_You thought by now they'd see_

_That you had come so far_

_And the pride inside their eyes_

_Would synchronize into a love you've never known_

_So much more than you've been shown_

Another failure. She whimpered and fell to the ground, her magic flickering at her hands. "I should be better," she whispered, fighting back tears. "It's been a week since I woke up, and my magic's still not right and I'm still not right and I… something's broken that never got fixed." Emma knew she should have healed and gone on grinning, like always. But her magic was flickering away, and the pride she had hoped so desperately for had never appeared in the Warriors' eyes. They would love her and accept her and she would finally have a family. She thought that they would understand…

_Hold on_

_One more time with feeling_

_Try it again_

_Breathing's just a rhythm_

_Say it in your mind_

_Until you know that the words are right_

_This is, why we, fight_

_This is, why, we fight_

Clay was surprised to open up the linen closet and see Emma curled up on top of a stack of blankets. Of course, considering her unusual sleeping schedule, he supposed this being one of her catnap spots wasn't too strange. Her expression was a rare one of peace, one that had never graced her features before. He tried not to notice how pale she still was, or the dark circles, like bruises, around her eyes. But she was breathing, and he smiled softly as she murmured something in her sleep. Clay pulled a blanket over her and his smile grew as she unconsciously snuggled into it, some color returning to her face. He closed the closet door, and prayed she would find peace.

**This song is so perfect for Emma after she got possessed by Changeling. That in itself is another story altogether… which I think you'll be seeing soon. ;) Until then, leave a review and earn your house a couple points! **


	34. Almost

**Almost**

**A/N: I have had a rough week. Pardon me if I'm venting, but man alive, I'm too tired to function. **

_Fear is just faith you can't see._

He almost deserved it.

She had come to him after dinner, when he was reading in the library. He set down his copy of _The Great Gatsby_ and smiled at the Irish girl walking in. She asked to talk to him, and the seriousness in her tone made him stand to put away his book. It was rare that she was ever anything but hyper and grinning, so he figured he should listen to what she had to say. He turned to her and saw her standing resolutely in her normal Temple robes, her jacket on. Her expression was surprisingly defiant, like she was about to tell him off for something.

"Clay, there's something I need to tell you," she said, her face solemn. "Something I should have told you a while ago."

"Listen, if this is about your sketchbook, Ah really am sorry," he said, worried. "Ah didn't mean to look through it, Ah just-"

"Oh, jeez," she said, some of her seriousness being replaced with the awkwardness he was so used to. "Clay, that's not what I mean at all."

That remark annoyed him. "Look, if ya ain't gonna be up front with me, then-"

"I love you."

He stared, openmouthed, at the girl who had just bared her soul to him. She gave him a weak smile, and he realized that she already knew what he was going to say. Maybe she only understood a little. Maybe she didn't know about the rules. Maybe she didn't know about how he wanted to sweep her up and twirl her around and cry yes, yes, he loved her too. And as he stared at her, blue against hazel, he wanted so desperately to tell her about all of it. And he almost did.

Almost.

She had once remarked to him that almost was the saddest word in the world. Almost meant broken things, lost things, pain and grieving. It meant so close, but not close enough. He understood now. He had understood what she had gone through, and now he understood what she felt when she reached out and almost- _almost_- got what she wanted. His mind whirled with almost and maybe and nearly and every other word that was going to break her heart.

He almost didn't do it. He almost broke the rules and pulled her into his arms and told her that he understood and that he loved her and that she deserved something good to happen to her and he wanted to be that something and he hoped he was good enough. Almost. But he was Clay Bailey, and Clay Bailey was a good, honest man who didn't break rules and did as he was told. After all, rules were set for a reason; to stop people from getting hurt. So how could a rule hurt someone so much?

He barely even registered what he was saying. All he could see was the pain and fear and sadness, so deep, so unbefitting, in her eyes. He said something about being sorry, but he just wanted to be friends, and surely she understood? She put on her brave face and laughed dismissively and said of course she understood, and sorry for bothering him. She shook his hand, and he felt it trembling. Then she left the room and he stood there, regretting everything. He almost ran after her and took it all back.

Almost.

**I need to write some fluff for these two. All I do is angst these days. D: **


	35. 15 Musical Drabbles

**15 Musical Drabbles**

**Footloose- Kenny Loggins**

"_Boom _goes the dynamite!" Emma crowed. Yet another record set on Just Dance 2, making this one her fourteenth. Dominic wailed in the background as his record was shattered, but nobody could shake it to Girlfriend like Emma could.

"Why would ye go an' do that?" he cried. "Tha' was me favorite song!"

"Toughen up, Dommie," she sang, tossing him the controller. "Just admit that I am the best dancer here."

"Oh, aye, in yer dreams. I'm still the best at Rasputin and ye'll not take tha' from me."

"That sounds like a challenge."

**Sadness- New Found Glory**

The girl didn't get sad. She got angry. She understood exactly why Clay had said what he'd said. After all, she was so completely worthless. Ugly, stupid, talentless, annoying, and in general, a failure. It was no surprise that Clay had rejected her, said he just wanted to be friends. No surprise that she was alone. Like always. At least she knew how it felt to be by herself, and at least she didn't need a man in her life to make her feel whole. She could hack it just fine by herself.

Another training dummy was vaporized as she began to count her hundreds of flaws yet again.

**Karma Chameleon- Culture Club**

She was _maddening_. Settekh paced his room for the third time that week, wracking his brain. It didn't make sense. Yes, Minerva was beautiful, yes, she was cunning, and yes, she was almost his equal in intellect. Still, though, every other good-looking woman had passed through his life with little to no incident, and here he was almost ready to pull out his hair because of one woman. He wouldn't, of course- never would he actually ruin his hair because of frustration.

It didn't make her any less attractive.

**Ribbons (Home Recording)- Ingrid Michaelson**

Kimiko was absolutely through with it. The third date he had skipped out on, and the last. She was breaking up with Nate and it felt good. He had been so nice at first, a sweet, handsome guy from her favorite nightclub. But he had quickly turned into an annoyance that kept missing dates.

As she passed Raimundo, she was so concentrated on her anger that she didn't notice him. But he saw how mad she was and, for a moment, wondered why. Then he remembered her ranting last night about stupid Nate and how if he missed their date the next day they were done. Raimundo turned and kept walking, a grin on his face.

**I'm Not The One- New Found Glory**

"Should we run away together?"

Minerva glanced up from the scroll she was writing in. Settekh looked very annoyed, probably with yet another official bringing up his birthrights, or lack thereof. Minerva tilted her head as though she was thinking it over.

"No," she finally said. "What kind of king and queen would we be if we gave up so soon?"  
>Settekh snorted and stomped away. She hadn't missed him fighting back a smile, though. With a smirk of her own, she returned to her writing.<p>

**Punch Lines and Ironies- Chris Rice**

"And that one is Cassiopeia."

"How about that one?"  
>"Cetus. They're both circumpolar constellations."<p>

"Which means what?"

"They never leave the sky," Raimundo replied. Kimiko tore her gaze away from the galaxies swirling in the darkness above them and stared at the boy lying in the grass beside her. "I love how stars have backstories and legends and stuff," he said, gesturing to the sky. "I think God would like that we've given them our own names."

"I think you're right." Kimiko sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "God's got a good sense of humor."

**Like A Lake- Sara Groves**

Normally, when Emma was upset, she bottled it up. She always had- it was easier that way. If she hid how she felt, if she took all her anger and pain and sadness and just shoved it into a small, dark box in her heart and locked it and threw away the key, she was fine. She could go on smiling and no one would ever suspect how messed up she really was. Nobody she cared about could get hurt by her pain, and no one except her would have to carry her burdens. She could make it all by herself, alone, like always.

So she was the most surprised of all when she broke down crying in front of everyone. After her tears had stopped, she looked around at the concerned people around her who really cared about her. It was time, she thought, to open up. So she took a deep breath and began to explain why she hurt so much and so deeply.

**I'm Not That Girl- Idina Menzel**

She watched silently as Clay and Renai laughed at something Raimundo had said. Of course Renai had come to the Temple. Renai, so perfect in every way. Renai, who could control all four elements and wore girly clothes that revealed her perfect figure and her perfect hair and her perfect face. Renai, who had stolen Clay away from Emma with one look, when he hadn't even been Emma's in the first place.

She had known not to get her hopes up. She knew how bad it was to wish when every odd was stacked against her. She knew from experience how stupid it was for her, of all people, to dream. But she had anyway, her boundless optimism and limitless hope surpassing her reason. And, of course, she had been destroyed. She had forgotten who and what she was.

No one would ever want her. Certainly not Clay, and certainly not when Renai was around.

**Biscuits and Butter- Carrie Newcomer**

The woman stood at the window. Her eyes strained to peer into the darkness. Nothing. It had been nothing for three days and, deep inside her, she knew that it would be nothing for a long, long time.

She felt someone tugging on her sleeve. She looked down to see Seamus looking up at her, his eyes, a deeper brown than hers, imploring her for news. "Nothing yet," she whispered, unable to speak any louder for fear of breaking into sobs.

Seamus hugged his mother, far wiser than any 12-year-old should have been. For such a small, silent boy, he was more world-weary than she, it sometimes seemed. So she felt little shame as the tears began to fall, and as she sank to her knees and hugged her son back, silent so as not to wake Annie.

**When Will My Life Begin (Reprise 2)- Mandy Moore**

Adventure was out there, and she knew it. The girl stared out the window, tapping her pencil mindlessly against her notebook. The sky was crisp and blue, the air cold and clean. All she had to do was leave. She could leave today, she mused, all she'd have to do was fill her backpack up and run for the hills. She could make it. She was smart enough, resourceful enough. She could do anything, all she had to do was up and leave, and then she could-

"Miss O'Reiley, if you're done daydreaming, I believe I asked for the answer to number four," came the voice of her math teacher. Shocked out of her visions, Emma felt her face turn red at the snickering of her classmates, and she answered. Adventure, she knew, was out there. But it was going to have to wait.

**Candlelight- Relient K**

Kimiko was more than hot. Kimiko was beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, unbelievable. Raimundo stared at the girl commanding fire so gracefully as she sparred with the newcomer, who could barely keep up. It was interesting to see Kimiko side-by-side with another girl, even one who acted so much like a boy. He watched Kimiko's movements, how her glossy hair reflected the fire, the concentration and control in her sky-blue eyes.

She could turn heads and snap necks. She was a knockout in both senses. Kimiko, Raimundo thought, was amazing. Beyond amazing. And all the other girls in the world couldn't compare. Certainly not the one currently trying not to get her hair set on fire again.

**Safronia B- Colin James**

Emma hadn't thought Clay would actually do it. They were at a bar that happened to have karaoke and it happened to have Emma's favorite swing song on it. She had jokingly dared him to go up and sing it for her. Never had she thought that he would adjust his hat, stand, and turn on the jukebox.

She had no idea he could sing that well, either, and apparently neither did her friends. But as the Texan belted out the lyrics, Emma felt a smile creeping onto her face. When Clay winked at her she began laughing, and could barely hold it in until then end of the song. By the time he had walked back to his seat, she was in stitches. He sat down and she gave him a bear hug, reminding herself not to underestimate the man again.

**Ballad of a Politician- Regina Spektor**

She loved too deeply. She loved so deep, so tender, her people and her land. She could barely recall a time when she hadn't loved deeply. But time had gone by, as time is so prone to doing, and she had grown and left her land and tried to forget her people. She traveled too much anyway. She had no time for ties by area. She had no time for much these days, except murder and money.

"I am not a number," she had to remind herself sometimes. "I am not a name. I am a carefully laid plan." A plan laid for her by God, perhaps. Or perhaps by those who gave her the money and paved the way for the murder. Either way, she loved her job and the screams only made it better.

**Nutcracker Suite, Op. 71a: Arabian Dance- Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky **

She was a good dancer, if anything. Settekh watched from his place at the wall, where normally a small harem of women would come to fawn over him. All air-headed idiots, but daughters of high-ranking nobles. They could be useful, at the very least, so he always turned up the charm when they came around. Luckily for him, however, they were off babbling over stupid things somewhere else. His attention had turned to the center of the room, where music played, and there, Minerva.

He was loathe to admit how much he enjoyed watching her dance. She did it slowly, solemnly, not a step out of time. The beat moved with her, and he had to use a good amount of willpower not to go out and join her. So instead he watched. After all, she was a good dancer, if anything.

**Cover Girl- Big Time Rush  
><strong> Clay had known that Emma had little to no self-esteem. He knew what her time with her family and at her old school had done to her. She hated herself, though she rarely showed it. But Clay could see right through her act and both of them knew it.

"Hey." Emma looked up as Clay sat next to her. They were under the gnarled old willow tree Emma loved to draw under. "You still mad at Rai fer callin' you a boy?"

"Nah," she replied, turning to her sketchbook so he wouldn't see the hurt in her eyes. "I'm used to it. I have pretty androgynous features, so it's really no surprise that-"

Clay cupped her chin and turned her head to face him. "Emma O'Reiley, you are beautiful. You understand that? You've got a great laugh and a great smile and beautiful eyes and you're adorable when you're mad. People are gonna jump at th' chance to call you somethin' you ain't, an' that's life. But don't you ever- _ever_- say it of yerself. You unnerstand me?"

She nodded, her face red. Clay smiled and pulled her into a hug, his smile growing as she returned it. "Thanks," she squeaked.

"Just tellin' ya the truth, darlin'."


	36. Almost Impossible

Being a Xiaolin Warrior was almost impossible.

Emma had never thought it would be so hard. Constant chores, a demanding schedule, getting up early and going to bed late. Working nonstop, with almost no time for enjoyment or rest. It was not at all what she had been expecting… and she loved it anyway.

It was adventure. It was everything she could have asked for and more, a real challenge and a test. The Xiaolin Dragons, the kids who controlled the elements, made it look so easy. (She'd never be a Dragon, but if she worked hard enough she could possibly make Warrior.) They were kind, for the most part, and helpful… usually. Omi was condescending, Raimundo flat-out didn't like her, Kimiko was disappointed that she was such a tomboy and Clay was… Clay was a mystery. (One that she was ever so eager to figure out.) And though they seemed almost wary of her, in all her hyper, awkward strangeness, they slowly grew to like this small, grinning girl that had barged into their lives without so much as a hello.

Adventure though it was, being a Xiaolin Warrior wasn't easy. The chores alone were mind-boggling. Dishes and laundry didn't sound so bad, but considering the fact that the four- now five- kids did them for the whole Temple, it was more than a hassle. Cleaning, as well, took up most of their time. They did have help on some parts of the Temple, like where the older monks slept, but other than that they were on their own. Emma learned very quickly how to scrub tile and hardwood and everything in-between. She was more adept at cleaning the bathrooms than she was the kitchen, and found that she vastly preferred sweeping to dusting.

Then came the training. Emma woke up the second day and was almost paralyzed by how sore she was. She hadn't thought much of it going to bed after her first day of training, but the next morning her entire body hurt. Not even a specific kind of pain, just a lancing, throbbing _hurt_ from working so hard when she'd never exercised before in her life. Kimiko had laughed and explained that the first few days were the worst, when the body had yet to adjust to the rigor of temple life. Emma had moaned some response and managed to drag herself out of bed, knowing that the aches weren't going to get any better.

The training itself was almost more than she could handle. She liked to pretend she was playing a real-life video game when she was running through the obstacle course, always looking for shortcuts and thinking of ways to cheat. She loved using the Shen Gong Wu, and though she was still the worst of them at sparring, she didn't mind getting beaten up on occasion. After all, she was learning, even if the learning hurt. (Much like she had learned how to duck and dash when she heard certain people at school coming her way, the bob and weave she had taught herself to avoid getting shoved into her locker.) Still, there were the things like running and sit-ups that she hated and weighed too much to be any good at.

The magic training, though, that was the best. While the Dragons-in-training went to study their respective elements, she was ushered into the Temple basement, which had been cleared out to allow room for her spells. A good thing, too, since she had so little control of her magic, and as it had a terrible tendency to spin out of control. If the concrete walls were not there to hold in her lightning bolts and storms of energy, half the Temple would have been decimated. She pored over thousands of scrolls and books more ancient than her family tree, deciphering what she could use and what she couldn't. The magic was soon pouring from her, teeming over to spill out in color and energy and explode into the physical world. It was both excruciatingly terrifying and bone-shakingly exciting all at once, and Emma loved every second of it.

Fighting the Heylin, however, was another matter. She didn't know how they made it look so easy. They could crumple Jack-bots like tinfoil and she could barely dent them without the Fist of Tebigong. She was clever, yes, and resourceful, but that barely helped during showdowns and never helped during a firefight. She was also a coward and bad at making split-second decisions, which resulted in her sustaining more damage than necessary. She got faster and more agile, but so did Jack's mechanical minions. She never did get the hang of which wires to cut at 50 miles per hour. Chase Young frightened her to no end. Though the Irish girl was loathe to admit it, Chase knew exactly how to mess with her head, and that fact alone scared her more than anything. She could take Wuya on and sustain a reasonable chance of winning, but only when they were both cheating through their magic, and Wuya still outclassed her by a mile.

But when the comeback was good, it was _brilliant_. As she lost weight and regained it in muscle, she found out how to hit the robots and where. She sang and out came her magic, pouring through the notes to become a tangible stream of physical force. She got good at fighting- real good. And she _liked_ it; she craved the rush of adrenaline and the leap into battle. She learned how to fight smart because she couldn't fight via strength. It was good, and she loved the learning, but it was so much work she had to wonder sometimes if she should just quit and return to Indiana.

Even outside of battle and Temple life, the Xiaolin Dragons never stopped astonishing her. They wore more hats than she could count. They were peacekeepers, babysitters, do-gooders, pranksters, social workers, mess-makers and more. The hours were inhuman, and being a member of the Xiaolin Temple could be exhausting, annoying, disgusting, aggravating, boring, horrifying and often it seemed like more effort than it was worth.

Yet time after time, the Dragons held the world together all by themselves. And Emma O'Reiley, in a stroke of luck that she had never thought would come, got to witness it all.


End file.
